


Bethany's Orgy

by Hatsepsut



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal, Angry Fenris, Angry Fenris being rough, Bethany is SO lucky, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, F/M, Huge amounts of smut, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Oral, Orgy, Other, Sex with Varric must be awesome, Sin Seb, Smut, Some angst, Vaginal Fingering, eventual polyamorous relationship, kinky Anders, sex spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsepsut/pseuds/Hatsepsut
Summary: Bethany Hawke is frustrated with her brother, Blythe Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, who has chased all men away from her and is determined to keep her a virgin -wrapped in wool and placed on a high self- for ever. The men in the group do not dare approach her, and she's lost hope of ever gaining their attention; shame, because she's harboured crushes on all of them over time.And then, they step into a chamber, deep in a ruin somewhere...and a lust spell is set off.As Isabela said "your virginity will go out with a BANG, darling."





	1. The Chamber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enchant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchant/gifts), [Shadowfire_RavenPheonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowfire_RavenPheonix/gifts).



> So, another one bites the dust and here I am paying trubute to the 'sex pollen/sex spell/fuck or die' trope. I was very reluctant to do a piece like this, because a certain level of dubious consent is always present with those pieces, and it is so easy for somebody to turn around and yell "rape!". So, read at your own perill.  
> On another note, some of you, I am sure, will object with how I portray Fenris at some point. But, for me, if Fenris was in the control of a lust spell, under the influence of magic, he would react violently. I firmly believe that, and I couldn't sugarcoat that. Fenris is capable if great tenderness, in my opinion, but when cornerned, he will react with viciousness. I'm sorry if some of you take offense at that.  
> All in all, thank you for reading, and be prepared to read what is essentiall an 80 page Word document of almost nothing but smut.
> 
> By the way, In this story, both Hawke and Bethany are mages, but she hasn't been taken to the circle; the money the family made at the Deep Roads was enough to protect her. This is timed a little before Act 3, and their mother has died.
> 
> Enjoy!

“What is this place?” Hawke huffed for the hundredth time. “It’s not like any of the tunnels I’ve seen so far.”

Fenris scoffed. “Magister’s lair,” he said. “There are runes of power and old magic everywhere.”

Varric sighed at the back of the line. “Lovely. Twenty silvers there’s an Arcane Horror somewhere up ahead, waiting to go BAWHAHA on our asses.”

“The mongrel is right,” Anders mumbled, ignoring Fenris’ answering snarl. “This place must have housed a lot of magic at some point. There are undercurrents everywhere. Blood magic leaves a stamp behind; the whole feeling is unmistakable.”

Bethany nodded absentmindedly. “It’s the Veil; it thins and never recovers.”

Anders turned over his shoulder and shot a little smile to the brunette, making her blush slightly. Her always –and overly- protective brother scowled, catching the slight exchange, then pinned Anders with a look that had ‘stay away’ clearly written all over it.

For Blythe Hawke, there was nothing more precious than his ‘baby’ sister, no woman that ever encompassed all the womanly virtues that all females should ever aspire to - none other than his sister. For him, Bethany could do no wrong; she was kind, sweet, thoughtful. She had the looks of a goddess, the heart of a saint, the intellect of a scholar.

No man- _emphatically none_ \- was good enough for his baby sister. Men had better be aware that just letting them breathe the same air as her was extremely gracious of him.

Anders-and the rest of the males in the motley crew of his companions-were all aware of it. Although Blythe had never actually gone out and said that he considered them all not worth the dirt his sister’s feet touched, they all knew that even looking at Bethany the wrong way was sure to make him instantly defensive- or aggressive, depending on how ‘forward’  he’d considered their move to be.

No one had been made more aware of it than Sebastian. The former Prince of Starkhaven had started up a casual, friendly banter with Bethany on the very first day that he’d met her, to which she had responded with breathless, timid replies and virginal blushes. It had incensed Hawke to the point where he had taken the ex-prince aside and told him, point blank, never to even look at his sister again because he wasn’t going to let a sworn brother of the faith toy with her affections. Sebastian’s shocked silence –he hadn’t even understood what Hawke had meant until he caught the blush on Bethany’s face- was telling. He hurriedly assured Hawke that he had just been making small talk and that he had no such designs on his sister.

Hawke had been, and still was, clueless enough not to realise how much that declaration had hurt Bethany, and how frustrated she had become with her brother’s determination to keep her wrapped in cotton and away from the wily, wily ways of all men. Isabela had noticed, and remarkably, so had Merrill. They had given her pitying looks, which had only made things worse. Isabela had attempted to talk to Blythe, although with her lewd talk she’d ended up making him blow up in a spectacular display of temper. The pirate queen had joined the long list of people that Blythe considered unsuitable to socialise with his sister.

He’d even gone as far as insult Fenris one day, when the elf had just remarked that new scarf she had been wearing matched her eyes. And that was an indication of how invested Blythe was in his quest to ‘protect’ her, because nothing could turn the usually quick-tempered man to a doe-eyed simpleton more quickly than Fenris.

Bethany’s features scrounged up with annoyance at the way Anders now recoiled from Hawke with an alarmed look on his face and looked at everything except her. Damn Blythe! She would be less closely guarded in a Circle, damn him, she was sure of that. While on some level his attention was endearing and flattering –and made her feel safe- she was fast becoming incredibly frustrated with him.

She was a grown woman, damn it, and if she wanted to flirt she had every right to. The way things were going, Blythe was determined not to let her have a simple conversation with any male bar himself and their mabari. She was a young woman and damn it to all the Void, if she wanted to flirt she should be able to; not that her natural timidity wasn’t an obstacle as challenging as her brother. She knew perfectly well that if she attempted to flirt she’d get flustered, blush and start to stutter. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore, for the love of the Maker, and Blythe had no business acting like her keeper.

Truth be told, she wanted to do more than flirt, though. She didn’t dare admit it to even herself, but she was aware that there had been something building inside her for quite some time now, some physical need that went beyond the desire for romance and companionship. If she was being honest with herself, she was long tired with being a virgin, to be quite frank, past bored of being alone. Couples were already forming in the group around her, making her feel alone and abandoned. Her brother and Fenris had briefly gotten together, a subject that Blythe stubbornly avoided, just tightening his lips and looking away with a hurt expression when Bethany tried to talk to him about it. Isabela and Anders had dallied, she knew that, Isabela rarely kept such things a secret. Even Aveline had found someone new to love.

Only _she_ seemed destined to be forever alone, if her brother had anything to say about it. Her curvy lips curled into a small pout. Damn it, she wasn’t a baby. She was a grown woman and she was tired of having no one. Blythe could not understand that her romantic, naïve ideas of love and romance had matured and changed-just like she had. True, there had been a time when she had innocently believed she would one day find a loving husband to marry and raise a yard full of kids; the reality of the life of an apostate on the run had made her see how ludicrous these dreams had been. Kirkwall had taught her that a mage could not have the fairy-tale happy ending; instead she now just wanted someone to love, someone to share her bed on cold nights. Someone to look at her and not see Blythe Hawke’s baby sister, but the woman she had grown into.

All she wanted to feel like a woman, damn it, she wanted to just let go- even for one night, she wanted to see what it was like to feel free, to exist outside the labels that life and circumstance had imposed on her: mage, apostate, refugee. She wanted to see what it felt to just be a female, to let loose the sensuality she had –to her surprise- found lurking in her soul. If she was a bolder kind of woman, she’d have gone to the Blooming Rose one night, and Blythe be damned. But she wasn’t. And she had no real contact with any men outside their small group, both because her apostate lifestyle had taught her to be guarded with stranger and because of her natural shyness.

She shot a covert look to Sebastian, walking a little further off, bedazzling in his spotless, gleaming armour. Broad shoulders strained under the leather jerkin underneath the chainmail and she found herself secretly shooting clandestine looks to the delectably tight, boyish buttocks in front of her. Further off, Fenris was a barely leashed coil of energy, the lyrium under his skin singing to her. Anders was walking behind her, but she could still catch a whiff of his scent; elfroot and embrium- a healer’s comforting and alluring smell. She looked back at Varric and his whisky-coloured eyes twinkled at her as he absentmindedly scratched the thick pelt of hair peeking through his open shirt, reminding Bethany how many times her fingers had itched to find out if it was as soft as it looked.

She had harboured crushes on all of them but she wasn’t sure they’d be interested even if Blythe hadn’t warned all of them away. Sebastian treated her with courtesy and fond indulgence, Anders smiled at her like to a kid sister and Varric called her Sunshine and protected her as rigidly as her own brother. As for Fenris...he seemed to loathe her, constantly looking at her with suspicion in his moss green eyes, as if he expected her to turn to blood magic any minute- and he probably did.

She sighed. Maker’s breath, all she wanted was to be treated as a woman on her own right. Not Hawke’s little sister, but her, Bethany Hawke, mage, apostate, female.

Was that too much to ask?

She sighed and looked down at her boots. Sometimes, she even missed Carver’s immature, boyish pranks; they had given her something else to focus on other than her frustration.

A wave of sadness overcame her at the thought; Carver had been a royal pain in the ass some times, but as her twin she had always had a strong, almost instinctive connection to him. Being the only fighter in a family full of mages, he had often become a buffer between her and her extremely talented older brother, drawing his attention away from her with his often annoying, selfish behaviour. And, truth be told, Blythe’s obsession with ‘keeping Bethany safe’ had become ten times worse since they had lost Carver.

As her brother turned his brilliant, stunning lilac eyes towards her, checking to see if she was okay out of habit, she sighed once more then lowered her head.

Oh, why had coming with them sounded like a good idea today?

* * *

Blythe had stayed back to look at some weird wall carvings along with Merrill and Isabella when the rest of the party stepped into a chamber they found. Bethany didn't think anything of following the rest of the group-Varric, Sebastian, Anders and Fenris-into the chamber; not until the door banged shut behind them and a wave of ancient, malignant magic rose up to choke her.

She gasped for breath, thinking that they had triggered some ancient booby-trap and there was a wave of fire now blistering their flesh; it took her a few seconds to realise that the intense heat she felt bathing her whole body wasn’t accompanied by flames of any kind.

She shook her head to clear it, took a few more staggering steps into the chamber and then relaxed, as the wave of heat seemed to pass as if it had never been there. Anders relaxed his fighting stance in front of her, putting his staff back in its place with a flourish, and after a few minutes Varric and Sebastian also put their weapons back into their sheaths.

Only Fenris was still in a battle stance, his sword held at the ready in front of him, his eyes darting to and fro in alarm.

“Well,” Varric said. “For a moment there, I thought we’d all be roasting on a barbeque.”

Fenris threw his sword to the floor than run back to the door. “Hawke!” he shouted, answering the angry, alarmed shouts that were coming from the other side. “Check if there is a lever on your side!”

A minute of silence followed, and then cursing. “No,” Hawke’s voice was muffled by the thick, stone door. “Just these carvings.”

“Read them to me,” Fenris seemed to be tense like a bow, his fists clenched by his side.

“I can’t,” Hawke shouted. “It’s faded. And is this Arcanum? Arcanus something, then some more faded stuff, a name, aedis something something...”

Every muscle on Fenris’ body went rigid. Even his hair seemed to stand on end. “Aeris Lubidinis?”  He then banged on the door. “Hawke! Tell me it doesn’t say Aeris Lubidinis!”

“It does,” Hawke’s voice answered. “Is that bad?”

Fenris’ tense posture crumbled. “Maker...” he lisped. “Not that.”

Invisible hands of dread run their icy fingers up and down Bethany’s spine.

“What is it?” she asked, her brown eyes wide. “Fenris?”

The elf’s eyes fell on her with an expression bordering terror, then a stream of curses in Tevene left his lips.

Varric sighed, then looked at Anders, that had a similarly dumbfounded expression in his face.

“What does aeris lubidinis mean, Blondie? You mentioned they taught you some Arcanum and shit back at that Tower. I don’t think the Elf is going to be much help.” He paused for a minute observing Fenris whose markings flared up. “Other than a lighting fixture, that is.”

 Anders scratched his head, all eyes on him, then his eyes widened up. “Room...of lust??”

Varric facepalmed.

“That...can’t be good.”

* * *

Bethany’s head was pounding. Everyone was shouting and arguing and this damned room was so hot, the heat was like a steamy cloth had wrapped around her, choking her and making her feel like she wanted to peel her skin off. Without realising it, she unfastened the first two buttons of her robes and fanned her flushed face.

Silence suddenly crashed, as four airs of male eyes followed down the exposed curve of her neck and took in her flushed appearance.

“It’s already started,” Fenris groaned. “Maker preserve us.”

“There must be some way to undo the spell,” Anders insisted for the hundredth time. “Justice could….”

“You have not been listening, Mage,” Fenris’ voice was tight with annoyance. “Nothing can dispel it, nothing but blood magic being cast, or the magister controlling it actually releasing those within.”

Hawke’s voice echoed, frantic, through the door. “Explosives? There’s this dwarf-“

“It couldn’t hurt,” they heard Aveline’s voice agree.

Merrill’s lilted voice was sombre- which was, in Varric’s opinion, ten levels of worrying on its own. “The building is ancient. It might not take it. We could bury them alive. Oh, Bethany, just cast a little blood magic, the spell I told you. It’s harmless, I swear.”

Another argument erupted from the other side of the door, Hawke protesting the idea and then kicking and banging on the door in his frustration, making the headache pounding in Bethany’s brain even worse.

Maker, she thought, clenching and unclenching her hands nervously on her lap, eyeing the four males in the room with anxiety, noting their tensed postures, their dilated irises, the quickening pace of their breathing. Fenris was right, the spell was already beginning to affect them all. She could hardly believe it, that the ancient Tevinter magisters could have been depraved to this point, to create a room for this purpose, to cast a spell this potent that could have still been active after all those centuries. But the evidence was before her, on the four males watching her like prey. It was inside her, in the little voice that had started whispering of untold pleasures, its tone longing and needy.

A room of lust. Maker, what had she gotten herself into?

She’d had this feeling she was trapped in a dark, perverted nightmare from the first moment that Fenris had calmed down enough to explain. As she’d sat there, and listened, she’d thought that some demon had been playing a trick with her mind. This couldn’t be true. Things like that couldn’t be happening to her. She’d had to concentrate hard, fighting against shock to actually take in what the elf was telling them: that in the ancient days of the Tevinter Empirium, some magisters used rooms such as this to test mages before they took in new apprentices. To test whether their apprentices would cast blood magic to save themselves from being gang raped. Or, as Fenris had said, to ‘gently’ push unwilling apprentices to use it anyway, even if they were against the practise. It only worked on mages that hadn’t been harrowed yet, so that magisters could select which apprentices to patron later.

She had thrown up at that, her anxiety and the sudden slash of fear that had overwhelmed her getting the best of her. She had suddenly realised she was an unharrowed mage, the only female on a room with four males, while a spell that used the essence of a desire demon was already at work around her and inside her.

Gang raped. _Maker, preserve us._

“Of course, that was supposedly the purpose the room was created for,” Fenris had explained. “But it didn’t take long for them to use it as a perverted means of amusing themselves. My old master had been looking for the means to create one of his own for years, but while the rumours existed, nobody had actually found one, or official records of it.”

“Until now,” Anders had said, and the elf had nodded, then fixed Bethany with a deeply distrustful look. “Indeed. Until now.”

Sitting there all alone now, while they all argued and bickered amongst each other, she felt the first stirrings of a deep ache in her belly and nearly panicked. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand still, she couldn’t take their arguments and she sprang up, to bang on the door herself.

“Blythe!” she shouted, and more vicious, incensed swearing answered from the other side, along with the bang, bang, bang of a few well-placed but useless kicks. “Get me out if here!”

“Don’t worry baby girl,” Blythe tried to calm his sister, but she could hear the panic in his tone and it made her own flare. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out.” His voice rang out with command. “I’ll go get some explosives. Isabela, take Merrill and go ask the Keeper if she knows of any way to dispel this. Aveline, go…get me some Templars. Keep them in the dark as much as possible; if the other two ways don’t work then…”

“Yes, Hawke,” Aveline’s voice rang sure and determined, then they could all hear the sound of armoured feet moving away.

“I’m off,” Blythe sighed. Then his voice dropped to a snarling, threatening tone, and he hissed a warning through the door. “If any of you lay a single finger on my sister while I’m away…Varric, protect her with your life.”

“Sure, Hawke,” Varric shouted, a faked note of cheerfulness in his tone. “Who will protect her from me, though, I wonder,” he mumbled under his voice.

And then her brother was gone, and the panic that clenched around Bethany’s heart was stifling, making even the blood in her veins run cold. Feeling like a rabbit frozen under the eyes of a predator, she turned around, to see four males eyeing her with want, their eyes trailing up and down her curves.

“Shit,” she mumbled and a small chuckle answered form behind the door.

“You lucky bitch,” Isabela drawled through the door, but Bethany was so caught in the wave of fear and apprehension that was numbing her brain that she couldn’t focus past it to understand why Isabela thought she was lucky.

And then it hit her, as she looked at the four men before her, all male tension and masculine virility, lust virtually wafting off them in waves. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught. Her own eyes roamed over the men in front of her and she felt a dizzy spell wash over her. Maker. Toned bodies, long limbs, wide shoulders, burning eyes. Sebastian’s blue eyes were glinting. Fenris’ lyrium markings were thumbing with his heartbeat.  Anders was biting that kissable lip between his teeth. Varric was petting his chest hair.

“Your virginity is going to go out with a _bang_ , darling,” Isabela drawled, and her laughter echoed down the corridor as she left.

Bethany gasped.

_Oh, sweet Maker._


	2. Offered and Taken

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.”

“Priest,” Fenris growled. “Have a care.”

Sebastian- knelt on the floor, his bow glistening with sweat and his hands shaking- cast the pacing elf all but a single glance before going on. “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

“Tell me if that helps,” Varric sneered and Fenris growled in agreement. Anders tightened his lips from the corner, eyeing the chantry brother with a distasteful look.

“I’m getting a rock, Sebastian,” he warned darkly.

“I am not alone,” Sebastian went on, bowing his head. “Even as I stumble –ouch! Anders!”

“We have been listening to you chanting that damned piece for the past half hour. Stop it, or I’m getting a bigger one next time.”

Bethany would have laughed at the bickering if the need tightening her loins hadn’t started feeling as if somebody was driving a rusty dagger through her womb for the past half hour. She clenched her thighs together, sweat beading on her forehead, and avoided speaking, even making the slightest sound, hidden behind the boulders in the middle of the room. Varric had sent her there, right after her brother had left, because if they couldn’t see her maybe the lustful thoughts swarming around in all their minds would go away.

Not that it had worked.

“Somebody say something,” Fenris suddenly doubled over, his hands cupping the aching bulge in his britches. “Anything.”

“Except the chant,” Varric raised a hand to stop Sebastian. “Anything but that.”

 Sebastian looked miffed for a moment, but then his eyes glazed over and he let out a small defeated moan. “Is it me, or… _Maker’s blood_. Bethany. You smell so good, sweetling, even from way over there.”

Al males in the room stiffened with a moan of want.

“On second thought,” Varric groaned, also sniffing the air appreciatively and then clenching his teeth against the delicious scent of heated female flesh, “go on, Choir Boy. Chant your heart out.”

As the chant started echoing again, Bethany released the breath she had been holding, then bit her lip. When Sebastian had made that comment about how good she smelt, something had clenched violently inside her, and longing had flooded her; she had been afraid that choice would be taken from her and she had to admit…some part of her…might have been relieved if it was. But no, no. She shook her head to clear it of such wicked, lustful thoughts, and tired hard to pray along with Sebastian, valiantly ignoring how his soft, accented burr made little shivers of delight race down her spine. She was relieved they were perfect gentlemen –she was. She was relieved they seemed to be holding on, fighting this spell.

Wasn’t she?

 

* * *

 

“How long has it been?”

“About three minutes since you last asked the same question, mage.”

A male groan of pain and frustration answered him. “Maker’s hairy nutsacks. It hurts.”

“Blaspheme does not help, Anders,” Sebastian offered, his breath labouring.

Anders shot a look at him and sneered. “Said the priest,” he snorted, “with his hand down his britches, stroking his dick.”

Fenris opened one eye, his whole body rigid. “Be. Quiet.”

“Meditation working out for you, Elf?” Varric groaned from further off, his own hand trailing down towards his tenting britches. “Because I think I might try out Sebastian’s method of taking the matter into my own hands before I start going ohmmm.”

“Self-gratification offers no relief against this spell,” Fenris growled. “It only makes it worse.”

A small choked moan in a female voice sounded from behind the boulders, then a tiny whimper of pain. All the males in the room focused unerringly on that little sound, feeling as if somebody had lit a fire in their groins.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Bethany, baby,” Anders squirmed, with one hand tightening around an erection that felt swollen enough to be dangerous. “Don’t do that, little girl.”

“It hurts,” a small whimper sounded again, making everything male and protective in the four men roar to life. “Maker, it hurts.”

“Just a little more, Sunshine,” Varric crooned to her, his voice soft, even though his eyes were glinting with lust. “Hold on a little more, sugar. Blythe will be here soon.”

“What happened if the victims of the spell resisted it?” Anders asked Fenris, his voice strained. “If they refused to both cast blood magic and fuck each other?”

Fenris sighed then looked to the door with a look of resignation on his face. “If the magister did not release them…madness. And after that…they gave in, regardless. Few escaped alive. Or…whole.”

Silence reigned, only broken by laboured breaths.

“Perhaps we should…”

“Bethany, no.” Anders protested, but his objection wasn’t voiced with a lot of determination. “Baby, no. You haven’t done this before. And…there are four of us.”

“Perhaps we should…Maker’s breath,” Sebastian blushed. “You know. Spare a chaste woman and…” he looked around him, his blush deepening to a crimson red. “ It’s the only noble thing to do. I’d rather go down a path of sin again than force this on any woman.”

“ _Again_?” Varric said tiredly, trying valiantly to focus on anything else other than the small sounds coming from the woman behind the rocks. He managed a faint eyebrow wiggle, but for him, that would have taken the chance to rile the prince and run away with it, it was a feeble effort.

“There was a time I made no distinctions among sexes,” Sebastian mumbled. He then groaned and threw his head back. “Anybody was fair game.”

“So, opposable thumbs, a breath and being bipedal were your only standards, is that what you’re saying, Choir Boy?” Varric attempted to joke to make the incessant throbbing in his cock go away, even for a bit.

“Is that what really interests you?” Sebastian hissed, incensed, a vein visibly popping out on his temple. “We should be concerned with…”

“It makes no difference,” Fenris interjected, his markings suddenly alighting. “The spell is focused on her as the only unharrowed mage in the room. Only being with her would offer any modicum of relief. It is ten times worse for her.”

Then his eyes glinted and he lowered his voice and sneered, finding his own way to combat the lust clouding his mind and tensing his body: anger.  “This is what all mages are capable of. Manipulation. Control. Stripping away all decency and dignity.”

Varric’s eyes blew wide in shock. He was already so hard, so relentlessly, unbearably aroused, that stabs of pain were tightening his gut and he felt as if his cock would burst. And he was a dwarf with a built-in resistance to magic. How much worse did the rest of his companions feel? And if Bethany felt ten times worse than that…

“Bethany? Sunshine? Are you doing alright back there, sweetie?”

A small sob answered him.

“Shit.” Varric watched in trepidation, even his humour leaving him, as Sebastian clenched and unclenched his fists, his eyes focused on the boulders behind which Bethany had hidden and Anders all but growled, focused on the same spot too. Fenris had started fuming, he noted, his nostrils flaring with anger and he got up to bang on the door, then try and ghost through the rock for the hundredth time, only to be repelled by some invisible barrier firmly embedded in the very walls. “Shit, shit, shit,” Varric bit his lip, shaking his head against images of Bethany writhing on the floor as he rammed his cock inside her. “Not good. Not good at all. Get your shit together, people.”

Sebastian groaned. “Bethany?”

“It hurts. Maker’s sake, it hurts. Please.” A broken moan by the woman behind the rocks made all four males almost fidget in place and bite back groans and curses.

“Cast a spell,” Anders cupped his groin, doubling over. “Bethany! Cast a spell!”

“No,” she moaned. “No, no I won’t!” a whimper and a small pained shout later, her voice was scared and almost on the verge of tears. “Sebastian, please?”

“Typical,” Fenris sneered. “She wants the prince.”

Anders raised his voice too. “I won’t stay here and suffer while he-“

“What will you do, mage?” Sebastian growled at him. “Rape her? She has chosen.”

Anders bit back his retort, then looked away, ashamed. “No,” he softly said but all the men in the room could see that the word was uttered without any real conviction anymore. “I’d rather kill myself.”

Fenris raised a gauntleted hand, his markings blazing. “I can help with that,” he threatened darkly.

Just then, when this whole thing was sure to erupt in hostilities, Bethany came slowly round the boulders, tears streaming down her face. Her hands were clutched over her belly and her breath was panting, but she seemed controlled and determined, her lovely face tightened in determination. She noticed how the four men sucked in deep breaths of barely leashed lust and desire, and how their bodies started shaking with the effort of holding back. Her eyes caressed each face in turn, while her body trembled, caught in a maelstrom of need; it was painful, they could all see that. Her face was pale, she was trembling, her eyes were wild.

But she was determined. Calm, even.

“I won’t let any of you suffer,” she declared, then swallowed heavily, because even though she’d made up her mind, she was scared. “I freely offer. All of you.” Her resolved seemed to waver there for a moment, before another agonising wave of desire clenched her womb and sent a spasm of agony through her loins. “Just…just help me. I don’t know what to do.”

Sebastian shot to his feet, then wavered slightly, his whole body almost gravitating towards her on its own. He closed his eyes and swallowed down convulsingly, trying to regain his control. “Bethany, no,” he protested. “It will be like taking advantage of you.” He backed a few steps away. “You are untouched.”

“We have to buy time,” she choked, her mouth opening slightly in a small moan of want and pain. “Until Blythe comes back. I won’t be able to take much more and neither will you,” her body bowed with another painful contraction of agonising hunger. “I’d rather do this now, when it’s still my choice.”

The four men looked to each other, then at the trembling woman in front of them. An unspoken communication went around the room among them; she was right. None of them could take it for much longer. One of them would soon crack; then violence would erupt. They’d either end up gang raping her, or killing each other, only for her to be taken violently by whomever remained in the end.

Varric spoke up first, rubbing a wildly trembling hand against his forehead. “Shit. Blythe will have our hides. Okay, people,” he pulled a bolt from inside his quiver, then broke it into four parts, one slightly smaller than the other. “Who wants first draw?”

* * *

Bethany’s eyes locked with Sebastian’s as the four men compared the lengths of sticks each had chosen and the ex-prince was found to have the longest one. She looked at him straight in his cornflower eyes, biting her lip between her teeth, trying desperately to come to grips with the reality of the situation; she had offered, she really had, to service them all and be serviced by them. They had drawn sticks. They had drawn sticks, Maker, as if deciding the turn of service at a brothel. Her cheks flamed up, shame flooding her, but then she pushed it away. Life had taught her to be practical; she couldn’t let them or herself be driven mad. So. Sebastian would be first, Anders next, Fenris after him and Varric would be last.

Maker, Sebastian would be _first_.

She almost started hyperventilating as once more she tried to reconcile herself with the fact that this was really happening. Sebastian, whom she had always admired from afar, who she had no hope of ever looking at her this way, would be her _first_. Her very first. A thousand virginal, frustrated fantasies, coming to life. Tears sprang to her eyes. This wasn’t the way she had wanted Sebastian to come to her bed. She looked over the rest of them, tears streaming down their face and realised that though with the exception Fenris, they all seemed concerned and moved by her tears, the look of want in their eyes was more powerful than compassion.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Varric’s lips tightened. “At least think about what Anders offered before. A sleep spell, and you’d only have to deal with one of us.”

“Which of course would be the mage,” Fenris sneered. “How conveniently self-sacrificing of him.”

Bethany swallowed down, her hand clenching on her cramping belly. “Fenris said that that wasn’t any guarantee that the spell wouldn’t continue to affect you all. And then you’d be helpless, caught in a dream…no, no, I can’t do that. I won’t let any of you suffer.”

“How magnanimous-“

“Elf,” Varric interrupted the sneering comment Fenris was about to make. “One more word over ten letters long, and I’m reaching for Bianca.”

“Fine.” The elf gritted through clenched teeth. “I can see this compassionate, wide-eyed routine has you all convinced. Here the poor mage is,” he gestured at Bethany, “sacrificing herself and her chastity to alleviate our suffering.” He narrowed his eyes at Bethany. “You are all convinced, but I am not. A mage always has ulterior motives.”

Varric rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, and my name is Harriet.”

But during this whole exchange Sebastian was looking at Bethany, his gaze unwavering. She turned to him again now, feeling the weight of his stare, blushing under his scrutiny. A man was looking at a woman he desired but never wanted, she thought, contemplating that soon he would take her virginity. And a woman was looking at a man that she had always desired, knowing that her virginity would be a gift that he had never wanted.

She felt like crying.

Was she the one that had cynically dismissed all romantic fancies just earlier this day? That had whined and complained that all she wanted was to know what it felt to be with a man just once- that had convinced herself that starry-eyed fantasies and girlish hopes were behind her?

What a fool she had been. Didn’t people always say to be careful what you wished for because you just might get it?

“I will try to be gentle,” Sebastian’s voice was soft, and although belied by the lustful, panting tension vibrating his body and dilating his eyes, she could tell that he meant it.

The rest of the group fell silent, as Bethany just nodded, suddenly eager to get this awkwardness done with, and then moved behind the boulders again, her face flaming as she started to unbutton her robe.  A thousand thoughts a mile were going through her mind. There was that eager, panting voice, that incessant throbbing of desire and lust fogging her thoughts, but still, she couldn’t help wondering. Would it hurt? Would she please him?

And suddenly Sebastian was there, beside her, and his head was leaning towards her, and before she knew it he was kissing her. A moment of shocked stillness, and then fire just roared inside her. Maker, he could kiss like no man should ever be allowed to kiss and still run free; he should be illegal. Somebody should have taken him off the streets, lock him up somewhere where he couldn’t affect people like the drug he was. She almost snorted when she realized –somebody had done exactly that.

But then he pressed on, his kiss more demanding, and every other thought simply died out. His lips were warm and soft, his breath was hot and panting. She mewled as she registered every sensation, how he had to bend his head down to her, how his big body so close to her seemed to be giving off heat like a living, breathing, trembling furnace. How he pushed for even more contact and how eagerly she gave in, opening her mouth to an assault that shattered her. _His taste_. Maker his taste was like the man himself; strong, solid and incredibly fascinating. He smelled of incense and spice. Like the finest Starkhaven whisky, that she had once tasted; smoky, rich, able to make her stomach burn and her mind fog.

He stepped closer, trembling hands coming to rest on her hips. He whispered something she didn’t understand in her mouth and deepened a kiss she had no idea could even be deepened any further. She moaned, she couldn’t help it. His tongue was a conqueror, and she was already flying a white flag of surrender. Her hands tightened on the opening of his linen undertunic, realizing for the first time he had shed the polished armour and his leather cuirass and that her fingers were only separated from his skin by a fabric that was sinuously soft and malleable. She twisted that fabric in her fingers, eager for a touch of the man underneath, then slipped a hand down the opening.

Shock rocked her senses. He was so hard, so warm, so _male_. His chest was like that of a finely sculpted statue, all marble-like hardness; only that it was giving off velvety heat and a masculine scent that made her nostrils flare and her mouth water. She moaned into his mouth again, then squeaked a little in surprise as his large palms came up to circle her waist then slid lower, cupping her behind and pulling her even closer with an appreciative moan rumbling his chest.

That first full-bodied contact, that first touch of body to body; Bethany would never forget it, how it felt to be held in such an embrace. She had hugged males before, her father, her brothers, she had given friends friendly embraces before. But this was so different, this first contact of her body to the one of a man that wanted her. She mewled, and a little more of her inhibitions slid away. Maker, it was glorious, feeling a man’s hands tremble with desire while he pulled you close, while he fondled and petted. She could feel the throb of his straining member against her belly, and it filled her both with anxiety and a deep sense of hunger, a hunger she hadn’t been aware of before, but was now all-consuming.

Somewhere deep in that dark place that defined her womanly nature, something trembled and quivered, asking for that hardness with desperate want. Fire that could only be eradicated by him, thirst only he could quench.

She might have moaned something, his name perhaps, or a broken curse or prayer word. Whatever it was she had said, he obviously took it a signal, because suddenly his big hands were all over her, dragging clothes off with a deftness he should have forgotten all those years as a chantry brother. She never realized how she found herself lying naked on the floor; she only registered the hardness and the cold of the stone, separated from her skin only by the thin fabric of her robe, which he had hurriedly lain on the floor. But then his body had covered her, and this, _Maker, oh_ _Maker_ , this was hardness of a whole different kind, and hot, blistering hot instead of cold.

She mewled his name, a broken _Sebastian_ escaping her, then arched up, instinct and burning, primal need driving her. The man above her hissed and gritted his teeth, then closed his eyes and cursed luridly, trying to hold on to his control. Soft curves, pliant womanly flesh, the scent of desire, and an attractive, desirable woman saying his name with that quiver of want in her voice. It made every single muscle on the ex-prince’s body tense to breaking, and his big body was suddenly bathed in a fine sheen of sweat, that made his flesh glisten and slide against hers.

She had thought his kiss was dangerous, that it should have been declared illegal. But then he used his fingers, and Maker she was gone. Need clenched with a powerful spasm as his mouth closed around her nipple and his hand dipped to the hidden flesh between her legs, stroking her expertly.

She went stiff as a board, then a long, low moan of pleasure escaped her, and suddenly she knew why her body had so many curves and cavities- so he could cup them, so he could fill them. She was the sheath and he was the sword, and she had been empty all this time.  Something primordially female woke up inside her, and she moaned again, accepting it, embracing it, and the man above her at the same time.

He groaned her name as her arms wrapped around him, then hissed as her short nails dug into his shoulders; He opened lust-fogged eyes to look at her and the command in her brown eyes was unmistakable.

 “Now,” she moaned. “Please, Sebastian. _Now_.”

A smile crooked his mouth, one that belonged to man that had once been a cad and rascal and had not forgotten one ounce of the mischief he once enjoyed. He claimed her lips on another kiss, bold and sure, and utterly devastating. She could feel his shaft, burning hot against her stomach, almost twitching with impatience. Her whole body shook under Sebastian’s talented touch, his urgent, lust-ridden caresses. His whole body shook poised above her, bathed in a fine sheen of musk-scented sweat that was making her almost painful arousal skyrocket.

Another tremor of need shook her whole body, stabbing through her abdomen; she could feel her womb clench in agonizing arousal, her sheath pulsing, begging for something to fill her completely, taking that torturing feeling of emptiness away.

“It hurts,” she whimpered. “Sebastian, help me. It hurts!”

An agonized moan answered her as his mouth once again latched onto the aching tip of her swollen breast, while his fingers continued tormenting the tender, drenched flesh between her legs, strumming her nub until she thought she would scream with the pleasure-and the pain. Her need had reached a level where she was sure that she would start screaming soon, and Maker help her, she thought she’d never be able to stop if she did.

She could hear the panting breaths of Anders, Fenris and Varric from behind the rocks; the knowledge that they were sitting there, each with their cocks at hand pleasuring themselves while they waited for their turn was an added aphrodisiac which amplified the effects of the spell in the chamber to an ever higher level. Maker, she should be mortified that she had in essence agreed to let them all have her-one by one- but he couldn’t bring herself to care. A wild, uncontrollable part of her, an echo of some remnant of the most primitively animalistic side of her, could only rejoice at it.

Like an animal of old, caught in the throes of an overwhelming mating instinct, she could only rejoice; strong, eager, virile males, vying for her attention, for the privilege to rut with her. Maker it was decadent, it was sinful, she should be horrified.

But the truth was...she wasn’t.

One long, calloused finger slipped between the closed folds of her sex, easily sliding through the thick cream that had escaped her; it probed around her untried opening for a just a second then penetrated, making her whole body arch off the hard ground.

Sebastian grunted at the incredibly tight fit, then captured her lips in a long, drugging kiss that made stars explode behind her closed eyelids. Body trembling, tensed, she could only concentrate on his warm tongue exploring her mouth and the tight point of entry where his finger had penetrated a part of her body not even she herself had ever touched.

“So hot,” Sebastian drawled against her mouth in his thick Starkhaven burr, made even hoarse and silkier with arousal. “So tight.”

A moan sounded from behind the rocks. “Maker’s breath,” Anders gasped. “Are you in?”

“Just fingers,” Sebastian replied to the other man, adding another thick digit and swallowing her moan of pleasure and slight distress with his kiss. “She’s so good,” he remarked to the other man. “So tight.”

A rumbling growl in a darkly hoarse voice answered. “Get on with it, Priest!”

Sebastian smiled down at Bethany, into her dazed, lust-fogged eyes. “Fenris is eager for you,” he murmured darkly, nipping small, cruel bites around her swollen nipple, “mage hater or not. But you’re so sweet, I don’t want to give you up.”

“Please,” she begged, her whole body arching towards him eagerly. “Please, Sebastian. It hurts.”

“Shhhh.” He soothed her with the caress of one hand down her torso. “Soon, sweetling, soon.”

“No,” she attacked him, too far gone to care, too far aroused to even pretend any coyness or shame. Her arms wrapped around his neck, dragging him down for a ravenous kiss, while her legs climbed to wrap around his hips. “No! Now, damn you!”

He had to pull his fingers away to steady himself and she found the chance to rub her slick slit against the hardness that she so craved, aggressively demanding that he stop this torment. With a groan, Sebastian tried to put some distance between them, before the feeling of her slick, hot flesh raining liquid fire on his painfully swollen length registered. He muttered a blasphemous curse, then his hips snapped forward, seemingly on their own, and amazing, heart-stopping heat surrounded him.

The pliant female body in his arms became as tensed as the drawn string of a bow. A scream escaped Bethany, a guttural cry of pain and relief as Sebastian’s rigid length parted internal walls that had never been stretched before. She had felt something rip- a stab of pain that had for moment stolen her breath had accompanied it. She gasped then let out a shocked “OH!” as she felt the broad tip of his cock rest against the very end of her, touching the entrance of her womb. “Oh, Maker!”

Stinging pain, like a knife slicing inside her; the pounding of a heartbeat in a piece of flesh that wasn’t hers but was deep in the deepest part of her. A throbbing length of steal, lodged inside her core, stretching her, separating muscles that protested and fluttered, struggling to adjust. Heat; the incredible heat of a big male body dominating hers. Hardness to softness, the sword finally sliding in its sheath, the feeling of another person’s flesh so intimately connected to her own, as if it was a part of her.

She would never forget these feelings even if she lived to a thousand years; the sawing of Sebastian’s breath as he struggled to give her time to adjust, the scent of his trembling, sweat-slicked body, the heat coming off him in waves. The sensation of him filling her. Maker, it was so odd, and so right at the same time. She was caught poised between discomfort and awe- Maker, it was amazing, this pleasure that was beginning to unfold underneath the pain, promising her that if she was a little patient she was going to like this- _she was more than going to like this_.

Struggling to process those new feelings and sensations, she was helpless to resist the overload of stimulation when his hips jerked backwards then hammered one sure thrust inside her. She lost her breath on a shocked gasp and cried out again, as pain and pleasure merged into a potent mixture that set her brain on fire. Another surging thrust- she could feel every swollen, engorged vein along his shaft as it dragged along her tender inner tissues, then the silky feel of the head of his cock as it tunnelled deep inside her again.

“Oh, Maker,” she cried out. “Sebastian!”

His arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her whole body up, raising on his knees with her perched on his lap, impaled on his clock, her legs around his waist and his brawny, strong hands cupping her ass and supporting her.

“Hold on, lass,” he murmured before his hips started pistoning, driving his cock to hammer inside her, building up a rhythm that was sure to make her body throw sparks. “Here we go.”

Somewhere along the haze of pleasure that took her she was aware of harsh, panting breaths coming from behind the rocks; she thought she saw a blond head peek once and then a throaty, prolonged moan and a hissed warning by Sebastian to wait his damned turn, damn it, but she couldn’t be sure. Her brain had nearly shut down; she gazed into Sebastian’s cerulean blue eyes- narrowed in concentration, fogged with pleasure- unable to reconcile the image of the usually soft-spoken, mild man of faith with this lusty male animal that had taken total control of her body. She was enthralled with the way his nostrils flared and the vein on his temple pulsed as his shaft plunged inside her. Pleasure streamed along every nerve ending, turning her into a quivering mess that had totally surrendered all control to the man that was teaching her what it meant to be a woman.

She didn’t have any warning before her orgasm rocked her body, making her thrash in Sebastian’s hold. One minute she was focused on the exquisite feel of his shaft hammering inside her, the freedom of total loss of all control, and the next her whole body was jerking as if electricity was going through her, caught in the throes of an orgasm so explosive that for a moment she lost all consciousness, floating around in nothingness. What grounded her and returned back to reality was hearing Sebastian’s rough, wrenching moans as the pulsing of her tight sheath milked his orgasm out of him too. Her eyes went wide as she felt him shudder inside her, his length engorging even more before it exploded inside her in long, white-hot spurts of something silky and scalding that filled her to the brim. Another orgasm ripped through her, even stronger, but she could only keen and moan- it was intense enough to knot her womb and cause her whole body to cramp with tension; strong enough to make her eyes roll backwards and her breath to catch.

Sebastian’s arms wrapped more tightly around her, holding on to her, moaning like a wounded thing as her incredibly tight sheath milked him of every last drop of his seed. She rested her head against his shoulder, feeling exhausted and yet energized, her body still thrumming with pleasure. The hunger that had come from the spell had abated but it was still there, lurking underneath the surface, hidden behind the pleasure and the small stings of pain as his softening shaft slipped from inside her; immediately, the feeling of emptiness started choking her, along with a feeling of being changed, irrevocably and permanently. Tears climbed to her eyes; she sniffled, feeling absurdly more ashamed at this show of feminine weakness than she had been at her forwardness and total loss of inhibition. A little voice whispered in her head that this would never have happened if they hadn’t’ been locked in this chamber. Sebastian would never have done this with her if he hadn’t been coerced, betrayed by the insistent demands of his body.

“No tears, lass,” his voice was soft and tender in her ear. “I don’t regret this; you shouldn’t either.”

She sniffled and looked into his eyes, blushing at the same time as the evidence of what they had done cooled between her legs. Sebastian slipped a hand down and it came up bloodied.

Bethany blushed even more, averting her eyes. “I hurt you,” Sebastian looked sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

She wanted to say something, to reassure him, to tell him that all girls felt a little pain during their first time, and that some of them bled more than she had, but she couldn’t find the breath to do so. Sebastian laid a surprisingly loving kiss on her trembling lips, looking guiltier and guiltier and then his lips trailed towards her ear. “I feel better,” he said. “I think I can resist the spell now. Just give me the word,” he whispered in her ear, “and I’ll fight them off for you. You don’t have to do this.”

A pained moan from behind the rocks reached their ears. Bethany instantly felt guilty for wanting to take him up on his offer. And, if she was being truthful, that moan had just made her stomach do a weird little flip flop. Arousal was building up again, even faster this time, because now her body knew what to expect and she wasn’t scared anymore.

She nodded negatively, her eyes widening at the stream of curses and broken pleas in what seemed to be Tevene. “They’re suffering,” she told Sebastian, pleading with her soft brown eyes for understanding, for him not to think any worse of her. “I can’t...I can't let them suffer.”

“Damn it, Sunshine,” Varric’s panting voice came from behind the rocks. “I never thought I’d say this, but... just cast a little blood magic and we’re all out of here. You don’t have to go through with this, darling.”

“Never!” Bethany’s vehemence shocked the panting and moaning men into silence. “No. I will not become a blood mage. I don’t care what it takes.”

Sebastian drew back from her, giving her a small nod. He gathered his clothes to him but before stepping away, he bent over, brought her hand to his lips and laid a respectful, sombre kiss on her palm.

He stepped behind the rocks and before Bethany had time to even draw breath, Anders was there, his whole body shaking, his robes hanging open and his cock already jutting out proudly in front of him, looking down on her naked body with a ravenous expression.

Bethany drew in a shaky breath, as lust started gnawing at her insides.

“A little healing first?” she timidly asked, trying to look anywhere else but that purple-headed, huge cock standing proudly at attention.

Anders fell to his knees next to her, blue flashes going off behind his eyes.

“Andraste’s breath,” his eyes roamed all over her naked body. “Are you sure about this?”

She just nodded and winced a little as every move reminded her of the fact that she’d just had her virginity taken; she was sore and aching and a dull thumb of her own heartbeat between her legs reminded her of both the excruciating pain and the heart-stopping pleasure. Suddenly a cool wave of healing magic centred on her sex and she sighed in relief. “Oh,” her eyes shot wide as the afterwake of the spell spread a delicious sensation of both burning and cooling. “That’s nice,” she murmured, feeling the last of the soreness abate.

 She opened her eyes to see a small smug smile paint itself on Anders’ lips.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I have quite a few magic tricks up my sleeve.”

 

Anders took in the sight in front of him with a sigh of want escaping him and an overwhelming need to lick his lips spreading like fire through his blood system. The need that had been gnawing at his insides from the first moment the spell in the chamber had taken effect had by now grown into an inferno that had obliterated all logical thought and left nothing but raw, blinding instinct at its wake. His cock felt as if it was burning up, hardened to a point that went beyond discomfort to actually be painful. Bethany looked delectable, spread open before him, her rosy flesh glowing with heat and bathed in sweat, her hair a dishevelled mass of brown curls around her flushed face. Her breasts, tipped with rosy nipples that had already hardened under his ravenous gaze, were quivering with her panting breath – her eyes were dilated, soft and inviting in the dim light.

His eyes slowly drifted lower; a lovely rounded stomach, the muscles knotted with tension, then lower still a trimmed, sweat-lathered blush of brown curls crowing her pink sex which was already wet and glistening. He couldn’t help but notice small smudges of blood adorning her spread thighs. As her legs fell open even wider under his gaze in blatant invitation he could clearly see the evidence of the fact that she had just been taken- Sebastian’s seed was already leaking out of her, a thick, rich cream that made her reddened flesh look even more delectable. Instead of being put off by the sight, Anders shuddered wildly with the sudden urge to taste her, to see what kind of flavour her and the ex-prince had made together.

He smiled wolfishly, then licked his lips, suddenly ravenous. Maker, it had been ages since he’d had a taste- female or male had never really mattered to him. He had learned not to be picky, the Circle had taught him that, but this, this would be a treat. Male and female desire mixed together, the sweet, tangy taste of a female’s heat mixed with the virile, slightly bitter taste of male seed; a taste of life, of what the two sexes could do together. He lightly touched his trembling fingers to her core, releasing another little wave of healing magic that made her sigh in relief again and smile sweetly up to him- and all of a sudden Anders was desperate to taste that sweetness, to see if her sweet nature translated to an equally syrupy taste, and whether Sebastian’s taste would temper that.

His fingers slid inside her now considerable less red looking flesh, gathering the cream still lingering inside her. She arched her hips up to him –trusting, inviting, begging. More fluids escaped her, coating his palm. Unable to fight the impulse, Anders brought his fingers to his mouth; his nostrils flared at the scent –virile male and earthy female musk combined- before he slowly licked one finger. He moaned low and long in his throat at the taste, shocking Bethany.

“That...oh,” her eyes were wide as she watched him lick each finer like a cat after cream, almost purring with enjoyment. “Doesn’t that taste...weird?” she muttered, her face glowing with embarrassment.

A moan sounded from behind the rocks, and Anders smirked. “You taste good on her, Priest,” he let Sebastian know, answering to the moan that he knew belonged to the Chantry brother.

“For fuck’s sake,” Varric groaned and a growled grunt by Fenris echoed the same sentiment. “That should sound sick, but fuck me, it doesn’t.”

Anders smiled again, then dipped his finger in Bethany’s core again, before offering his fingers to her, his hooded eyes inviting her to taste. Slowly, reluctantly, a pink little tongue came out to lick along one finger, and then her eyes blew open wide in surprise before sliding half-closed in an altogether positively wicked look of female want. She sucked Anders’ middle finger in her mouth, moaning at the taste. A broken moan escaped the naked man above her, a guttural sound of longing.

“Good?” he panted and she nodded, her face bright red but her eyes aflame with desire and her breath heaving.

“More,” she beseeched him with a quivering voice and small, rolling movement of her hips.

He bit his lip before bending to her; his tongue slid through her slit; a broad, bold swipe over her flesh, collecting all the moisture that had escaped her before he slid up her body and took her mouth in a ravenous kiss, sharing the cream he had collected with her.

She moaned into the kiss, her tongue chasing his, licking along it, devouring the juices he was offering her. Almost of its own free will, his hand dipped down again, to thrum her swollen little nub, making her mewl into the kiss and arch up to him. One small spark of electricity and the mewl turned into a cry, the arching of her hips turned into convulsive spasms. Relentlessly, aching to see her come further undone, to hear the panting, breathless cries she’d released for the prince now carry his name, he did it again: one spark, taking longer now, a little arch of electricity straight over the most sensitive part of her, shooting right down into her core.

Her eyes rolled backwards and she sighed his name, her body shuddering wildly.

“Louder, little girl,” he urged her. “You can do better that that.”

He slid two fingers in her convulsing sheath, easily finding the spot that would make her unravel in his arms and pressing down on her nub at the same time he let loose another small bolt.

He wasn’t disappointed; Bethany screamed his name, arching off the floor so strongly that he was afraid she’d break her spine, then went limp, racked by an orgasm so strong that it had almost knocked her unconscious.

Unable to fight off the demands of his aching cock, Anders took the opportunity to rearrange her limp, still twitching body to his liking, turning her sideways and pulling her back flush to his chest.

She didn’t fight him or resist at all when he raised on thigh up and slid his red, glistening cock along the crack of her ass, making him wonder briefly if she would be open to other, more depraved ways of being taken; the thought alone made him almost cross-eyed with want, before the incredible heat and moisture of her core beckoned to his aching shaft like a crooked finger to a long-lost lover. It took just one small thrust of his hips to align the mushroom-shaped tip of his cock with her opening. She pushed back, sealing her fate, her body instinctively begging for his. Anders groaned; but he wanted more, more than just fucking her, he wanted all of her.

One hand latched onto her breast, the other wrapped around her body to strum her clit, before he got hold of the tuft of hair decorating her sex and suddenly yanked hard; Bethany yelped, and in an instinctive move to get away for the sudden stinging pain she jerked back, impaling herself on Anders’ thick cock.

“Oh!” was all she said as for the second time in one night her body was invaded by a thick, hard-as-iron length of velvety heat. Anders groaned again behind her, then muttered something almost unintelligible about how tight she was, how snug her sheath was around his cock. He was thicker that Sebastian, and for the second time in a mere half hour, Bethany’s body struggled to take him, protesting the invasion with fluttering pulses that did more to accept than to dislodge the solid, broad length burrowing so deeply inside her.

He pulled back; muscles unaccustomed to being so stretched tightened convulsingly around him, as if trying to keep him in. Anders grunted; his cock felt as if a fist had tightened around it, almost chocking it. He pushed back in, relentlessly using small, swallow thrusts, loosening the tight, snug sheath, rejoicing in the gasps and groans that escaped the writhing woman in front of him, the slight sounds of distress and pleasure that escaped her.

“Scream my name again,” he whispered in her ear, while simultaneously sending another little jolt of electricity through her clit, her pebbled nipple, and deep inside her where his cock thrust deep to deliver a little jolt straight to the opening of her womb.

“ANDERS!”

“Yes, just like that,” he crooned in her ear, fighting against the need to sooth the small sting of electricity with his seed. “Just like that, little girl,” his voice was dark and carnal in her ear, edging her on. “Let them hear you.”

She panted his name, drawing in deep, chocking breaths that let him know she was on the verge of a huge, explosive orgasm, one that would make his ears hurt with the scream that would escape her. Another deep, brutal thrust inside her syrupy depths had her mewling, and then another one after that, until his hips were jack-hammering against her rounded behind and he thought that his cock would explode any minute now.

“Maker’s breath!” a broken moan from behind the rocks gave him pause. “What the fuck are you doing to her?”

“Answer him,” Anders commanded in the ear of the breathless mage in his arms, punctuating the command with a painful pinch on her clit, making her gasp and then sob her pleasure. “Tell him.”

Bethany looked at him over her shoulder, her face red with embarrassment but her eyes fogged with submission and lust.

“He’s f...fucking me,” she brokenly, breathlessly complied, her sweet voice hoarse with want. “He’s – OH, MAKER!- he’s so good. Ah...Maker. Sebastian. Fenris...Varric! help me. He’s fucking me- he’s...oh, help me. Make him finish me.”

“Shiiit!” Varric’s breath was panting. “That’s cruel, Blondie. I drew the short stick- I’m last.”

Fenris just grunted; his hoarse voice was even more guttural and harsh than usual.

“The Elf is lost for words,” Varric’s chuckled hoarsely, “but I think that meant ‘hurry the fuck up’. Or ‘do not tarry, mage’ or some such loquacious shit of his. ”

Anders would have laughed, but he was far beyond the point where he could continue this little teasing game of his- or form any more coherent thoughts. Bethany’s lewd words, falling so effortlessly from her usually prim, proper mouth, in that sweet voice of hers, had totally undone him. All he could do was give in, obeying the hot demands of his own body, hammering inside her in a rhythm that was filled with urgent, desperate want. He felt the tell-tale tightening of his sack under his shaft, the tingles running down his spine and – aching to hear her scream again- he thumbed her clit making her writhe and push back against him in an attempt to escape the tormenting touch of his fingers.

He roared his pleasure to the Maker when suddenly he felt the hot surge of his own seed shooting through his shaft to fill her up in long, scalding spurts. Electricity flew from his fingers on its own, hitting her nub just as her own orgasm tightened it to a hard, aching point. She screamed again, then blanked out in his arms; only her sheath was still active, clutching and unclutching around him, milking him.

He held on tightly to her trembling body, waiting for the world to stop spinning from one of the most satisfying orgasms of his life, taking stock of his own body and the word around him. Something ached in his groin, a pulled muscle probably, but the hunger that had tormented him was almost sated. Not completely, but for now it wasn't as if someone had lit a fire in his belly. He focused on slowing down the panting of his breath, then run a hand over her body, releasing a wave of healing magic.

“Are you alright?” he murmured in her ear, concerned with her still choppy breath and the tremors that continued to shake her body. She moaned as she felt his softening member slide out of her, another shudder racing through her.

“Bethany,” Anders soothed her, his hands petting down her lush, sweat covered body. Suddenly guilt rushed up to choke him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had wished for this for ages, but not like this. Not because you were forced to.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “I chose to.”

A few moments of silence answered her, before Anders leaned in closer to her ear. “Bethany...just...one spell, honey. Don’t...”

“No, never.”

“Fenris is next, baby,” Anders reminded her. “He hates mages.He won’t go easy on you. He might hurt you and then…I’m not sure I could help myself; I’d kill him with my bare hands. Please. One spell. Nobody will know.”

She turned in his arms and ran a hand down his face over his stubble- covered cheek. “I can’t. I won’t. Casting blood magic will only prove him right.”

Anders closed his eyes on a sigh. “If he’s right, then...there will be another time. We’ll all use you like...”

“I offered. I could have held you back with magic; I didn't want any of you to suffer.”

Anders shuddered. “Maker’s balls, we’d have ended up raping you. I’m still not sure if this is not rape as well.”

A shadow fell on the couple that was embraced in the ground and Bethany raised alarmed eyes to look on a barely controlled, trembling Fenris, obviously aroused although still dressed, looking down at them with a frown of disdain curling his lip.

“Enough talk,” he growled and for a moment, Anders’ arms tightened around her and she was grateful for it. The blond mage looked at her with a question in his eyes and she swallowed her fear down and tried to nod and smile reassuringly.

Anders picked up his clothes, shooting her looks that clearly spoke of his reluctance to leave her, then jabbed a finger in the elf’s chest as he was going by.

“Don’t hurt her, you rabid dog!” he spat through clenched teeth but Fenris just ignored him, his ravenous eyes narrowed on the woman naked on the floor in front of him.

“No promises,” his markings flared, and Bethany’s hair stood on end and her heart started racing with trepidation at the rage in his voice.

Oh, Fenris was pissed.


	3. Debauched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reminder: Fenris is vicious in this one. He is spurred by fear and desperation and he reacts with violence. Don't throw any bricks.

She eyed him with fear in her expression, like a small, helpless forest animal in front of a dangerous predator. His nostrils were flaring with anger and his fists were clenched next to his sides. His whole body was vibrating with tightly leased rage, making her squirm under his flinty gaze.

Feeling self-conscious and intimidated, she tried to cover her nakedness, but a growl from him stopped her. She raised huge eyes to his face again, her mouth quivering for a moment before the iron in her spine stiffened and she felt a wave of indignation choke her.

“Don’t growl at me,” she raised to her knees, covering her mount with one hand and her breasts with the other. “None of this is my fault.”

“Mages,” he sneered. “Always shrugging off their responsibility.”

She tossed her hair behind her, and tried valiantly to hide the little stab of pain his words caused by raising her chin defiantly. “ _I_ am not responsible for this mess.”

Fenris moved with that otherworldly speed she had always secretly admired. Before she knew it, he was leaning over her, his one hand tightened on her windpipe, his furious face inches from hers, sneering down on her.

“What I don’t understand,” he said, his tone almost conversational if one could discount the quiver of rage tightening it, “is why you don’t use your filthy magic to get us all out of this. Are you enjoying this, mage? Having us all at your mercy?”

Her heart starting pounding in her chest, but she clamped down on her fear and met his eyes head on.

“I will not use blood magic. Ever.”

“We shall see about that,” Fenris growled, before pushing her back down and starting to unclasp the buckles on his armour.

Despite her fear, or maybe even because of it, a hot surge of arousal made her knees feel like jelly the minute she could lay her eyes on the naked perfection that was Fenris. Bronzed, supple skin, stretched taut over sinewy muscle, adorned with silvery lines of lyrium, wrapping around his lanky frame like vines lovingly climbing around a sturdy young oak. No hair marred the perfection of his skin; he was all smooth, tan perfection, exotic and striking. His cock jutted proudly from his groin, a little smaller and less thick than the humans that had gone before him, but still impressive and more than intimidating; silvery lyrium marked him there too, and for a moment compassion won over her fear as she ached deep inside her at the pain he had been subjected to.

“Do not pity me!” he hissed, his voice incensed, his hand wrapping around her neck again and squeezing none too gently. Bethany had to blink to take in his words.

“I don’t,” she gasped, fighting against the hand still around her throat. She licked her lips nervously. “You’re beautiful, Fenris,” she rasped. “I’m just...I’m just sorry he hurt you.”

His eyes registered his surprise for just an instance at the genuine look of compassion on the face of the woman that currently had his hand squeezing her windpipe, before anger once again narrowed his eyes.

“A mage- like you,” he spat through clenched teeth. “This is what all you mages are capable of.”

She desperately tried to refuse it, her breath panting. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough to cause her real distress, but his touch promised pain if she pushed him any further.

“No,” she rasped, ignoring the instinct to just agree with him so he wouldn’t hurt her. “Not all of us.”

“Yes,” he growled. “All of you. You are all monsters. So just cast your blood magic like we all know you will eventually do, and end this. Unless this _is_ what you want,” his lip curled in disgust. “To be treated like the mage whore you are.”

And instantly, Bethany wasn’t afraid any more. Something in his eyes, something lurking underneath the rage and the distain suddenly spoke to her, making her relax in his grasp, chasing her panic away.

Fear. There was fear hidden in the elf’s eyes and she suddenly knew, with an instinctive, primal certainty, that Fenris wasn’t being cruel to be cruel; he was terrified. He was terrified of this loss of control, of not having any control over his body under the influence of magic. This was a cornered animal in front of her, snarling and snapping because it had been surrounded by the same thing it had been running from, and although a cornered animal could always be dangerous, she wasn’t afraid. Sympathy flooded her; alongside it, affection.

He was just a hurt thing, and he was afraid of being hurt again. There was nothing inside her that this fear didn't speak to, bringing out her empathetic nature.

“You can do whatever you want to me Fenris,” she whispered, surrendering. The hand that had been clutching at his arm fell listlessly to the side. “I will not cast blood magic. Ever. I will never be like him. Kill me if you have to; it would be better than to turn into Danarius.”

Fenris’ eyes widened then he snarled and his hand tightened even more on her throat- but she didn't fight him.

With a growl, he stepped closer to her and roughly clutched her face in his other hand, forcing her to open her mouth. His cock invaded her mouth, burying straight down to her throat in one rough, violent move; she choked a little, fighting for the breath that his shaft had pushed out of her lungs. But then his taste registered, the feeling of his shaft in her mouth; iron encased in silk, unyielding hardness wrapped in the most decadently soft skin. And the taste, Maker, the taste. Salty and bitter, all male, musky and virile. Lyrium, augmenting the taste and calling out to the mage inside her. She moaned around his length, making him hiss, before she timidly used her tongue to better stroke that incredibly velvety skin.

His hands moved to grab on to her hair at the sides of her head; he yanked and she had to move forward again, taking him as deeply as he could possibly go, hitting the back of her neck and making her gag a little. He held her there for moments that seemed excruciating, blocking her air pipe, until she thought she’d faint, with nothing but the scent of his cock filling her lungs. But then he pulled out, stroking himself against her tongue and lips before surging back in.

Bethany should have been mortified to be used like this, but she could understand his need to have control over a situation where control seemed to have been stripped away from him, so she just pushed her embarrassment away and concentrated on pleasuring him, determined to show him that even though this had been forced on them, they could still treat each other with affection. Every time he drew back, she used all the growing want and arousal in her bloodstream to caress and kiss his rigid flesh, to tenderly run her tongue over his cock, to lick and kiss and fondle. When his rhythm started building up, she moaned around his cock as it ruthlessly took her mouth, rejoicing in the way his body shook, in the fact that his hands, tightened on her hair, weren’t exactly steady. He was fighting against the pleasure, she could tell, but the little breathless gasps that escaped him in that deep, gravelly voice of his betrayed him.

She felt a wave of female triumph shoot through her when he pulled out, breathless and trembling, and gave her an incredulous look, a look of total confusion.

“Enough!” he growled. “You are enjoying this a little too much, mage,” he panted, then made a visible effort to regain his abating anger. “On your knees.”

She complied, turning her back on him, anxiety rising again inside her because she’d thought she would have been able to make him understand by now, that he’d have let go of some of his rage and not take her in anger.

“You won’t hurt me,” she panted, licking her lips. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

The sound of a hard slap echoed, followed by a sting of pain. “OH!” Bethany shouted, shocked at the violent slap that had landed on her ass.

“Guess again,” Fenris growled, before another slap landed on her other buttock making her yelp.

“Elf!” Varric’s voice sounded angry and indignant, followed by the sound of Bianca’s mechanism. “Don’t make Bianca come back there!”

“Varric, stay out of it,” Bethany shouted. She turned over her shoulder to look at Fenris that had frozen with his hand raised in the air over her ass, looking at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. She smiled sweetly to the elf, although she could feel the flesh of her ass still stinging. “You can do whatever you want to me, Fenris,” she crooned to him as she would to a skittish animal. “I won’t fight you.”

His eyes widened even more, before his eyebrows scrounged up with anger. “Are you mocking me, mage?” he sneered. “That will cost you.”

Despite the pain, the threat in his voice –or even because of them- she felt another hot surge of want stream through her. She didn’t answer; instead, she just presented herself to him, a blush painting her cheeks and her breath panting in anticipation. The effects of the spell in the chamber had not abated, she realised, as her abdomen tightened in painful arousal. She couldn’t even imagine what it had done to Fenris who had been fighting against it all this time. She could feel the dark energy of his lyrium brands struggling to break free behind her, the tension and lust making his lanky body almost vibrate.

Four more slaps fell on her sore, burning flesh, making her gasp and jerk every time. She’d bitten her lip to stop herself from crying out but every single one swat added another layer of sensation on top of the previous one; pain and surprisingly, arousal. Focused as she was on not making any sound, on controlling the responses of her body, she could now read them more clearly. Every slap- and these were not the playful, teasing smacks of a lover but harsh, violent blows- sent a searing flash of pain through her already abused flesh. But she could also feel waves of arousal shooting through her womb, the tender flesh between her legs getting soaked, throbbing, responding to the primal dominance of the man behind her with an almost blissful longing.

There was something depraved inside her, she suspected, that rejoiced in being helpless in Fenris’ hands, something that didn't obey social conventions and had no notion of feminine independence. That part of her was all animal- like a she-wolf that had to be defeated and dominated before she allowed the alpha male to mate her. She trusted Fenris though she feared him- trusted he wouldn’t really hurt her. She trusted that the flash of vulnerability she had seen lurking in his eyes and soul would be more powerful that his rage and his hatred.

She trusted that the man her brother loved would not harm her.

She had no way of knowing how long it would take that side of Fenris-if ever- to win over his mistrust of her. And that scared her. That small trace of fear, along with the sting of pain and the overlaying arousal were beginning to make her lose her focus, so when the next blow landed, she mewled- she couldn’t help it. An arrow of agonising want had accompanied the pain, scrabbling her brain and making her knees buckle. Another blow landed and this time she cried out in mixed pain and arousal, hissing at the potent combination.

“Had enough?” Fenris’ gravelly voice, rich and dark and decadent, like hot chocolate poured over broken glass, sent another flash of want though her flesh, and another surge of wetness escaped her. “You can put an end to this foolishness any time, little mage,” he taunted her.

“I’d never thought you of all people would be urging someone to use blood magic,” Anders muttered behind the barrier of the boulders, incredulity heavy on his voice.

Fenris growled at the interruption. “I am trying to spare her, Abomination!”

“Her, or yourself?” Sebastian’s voice was tight with anger. His question gave pause to the elf for a few seconds before he replied in choked, teeth-clenched anger.

“You are one to speak, Priest,” he spat the word with derision, “allowing yourself to practically rape her, blissfully using her. She will cast her blood magic eventually or she will be taken again and again, like a whore, like an animal. I am trying to spare her. It is the only kind thing to do.”

“Oh, these were slaps of kindness, then?” Varric jeered sarcastically. “Well, if you hurt her again, Bianca kind of insists on giving you a few bolts of it.”

For the second time, Bethany sprang to the elven warrior’s defence without even thinking about it. She had accurately read the menace and threat and seething anger in the three men’s comments as a veiled warning to Fenris that they were just about ready to respond with violence if he hurt her again. Those cries of pain that had escaped her had put all three men on edge; and their aggressiveness was making Fenris’ anger rage all the stronger.

“Stop it, all of you!” she hissed, before going up on her knees and bringing her body flush to the elven warrior’s tensed one, embracing him soothingly. A soft gasp of surprise escaped him, followed by a rumble of pleasure. “Stop it,” she addressed the other three men again, while her hands ran soothingly up and down Fenris’ rigid back. “Fenris won’t hurt me. I have already told him he can do whatever he wants to me. Leave him be.”

Fenris regained his composure –and his anger- with a growl. He grasped the arms that had snaked around his by the wrists and held them away from him, gazing at her with anger blazing in his green eyes.

“Whatever I want, huh?” his eyes narrowed. “Cast a spell, little mage, before I take you up on your foolish offer. Set us all free, or I just might do whatever I wish to you.”

And there that fear was again, hidden in his eyes, in the rigid lines of his body, that desperate need to stop being in the control of the magic that had made his cock rigid and begging for the soft flesh of a creature he claimed to despise- a mage. She suddenly craved to soothe that fear, to pet him and croon to him, to embrace his hatred with compassion and tell him it was alright, it was okay, that it would all be okay. But he had her wrists in death grip and she couldn’t do what she wanted to: run her fingers through his hair, over his clenched jaw, over his heart. So she did the only thing she could- she leaned forward and kissed him, laying the most tender, feather-light kiss on his full lips.

She could tell from the sudden, sharp breath of air he inhaled that she had shocked him again. Smiling slightly to herself, she trailed small, barely-there kisses all over his frowning forehead, over his closed eyes, the bold blade of his nose. She flicked her tongue over the lyrium lines on his stubborn chin then smiled softly in his eyes as they drifted open with a bewildered expression in them.

“I promise you, Fenris,” she murmured. “I will not become a blood mage. I will not be like those magisters you so rightly hate.” Her thoughts drifted back to her brother with a pang of pain, the same brother that was head over heels in love with the man in front of her. “The Hawke siblings will stay true,” she solemnly promised. “Neither Blythe, nor I, will ever betray you.”

Fenris tensed even further, a shudder racking his body at the mention of Blythe. His hands tightened around her wrists, and blue light flashed along his markings. He shoved her away from him with a violent push, then gazed down at her; there was anger and hate in his eyes, and something suspiciously similar to regret.

“I wish I could believe you,” he said, his eyes soft and unguarded for just a second, before his face hardened again, and he grasped the back of her knees and bended her clear in half, her centre obscenely exposed to his eyes. His iron hard length, leaking with arousal, rubbed along the her drenched slit, making her moan and close her eyes in bliss as it rubbed along nerve endings that were once again screaming for attention.

He leaned even further in above her, his face inches from hers, his green eyes narrowed with anger.

“Cast your spell. Release us. Release _me_.”

“No. Never.”

Her eyes bulged out with what answered her defiant refusal. Fenris touched the broad tip of his cock, slickened with her juices, on the tiny, tight opening of her ass and just pushed. Pain unlike anything she had ever felt blossomed as the tiny entrance protested then gave way and the mushroom shaped tip penetrated, forcing the puckered little hole wide open.

She screamed, a loud, agonised wail of pain. Her whole body protested, her whole existence focused on nothing else but the pain. Sweat covered her, tears ran down her face as she struggled for breath, her body instinctively clenching down on the intruder, trying to force it out. Curses and the sound of weapons being drawn erupted from behind the boulders, and she was grateful for it, she begged with everything in her that they would come rescue her from this agonising pain. But then his mouth descended on hers, in a kiss that was pure, overwhelming possession, swallowing up her cries, soothing her and inflaming her at the same time. She could feel the tight little opening of her ass clench and unclench, the flesh throbbing like a wound.

One more violent thrust and she screamed again in his mouth as his entire shaft buried deep in her ass, balls deep, his hard hips coming in touch with her enflamed ass that was still red and stinging from his previous slaps. He was like a red-hot rod of rigid steel lodged deep inside her tender ass, filling her with pain that went past the border of agony into torture. She could feel his length throbbing inside her, the heat and hardness of him; and deep inside her womb something started pulsing, some hidden arousal, until it blossomed into a heat wave that almost stole her breath away.

“Bethany!” Anders’ voice reached her through the furious pounding of her heartbeat that was all she could hear. “Let us stop him.”

“No!” she tore her mouth away from Fenris’ then looked into his eyes, tears still blinding her. “No,” she said, softly now, and her one hand climbed up to slide through his hair, trembling. “Anything he wants. _Anything he needs_.”

Fenris’ eyes widened, then slid closed and his forehead touched on hers. “You...you humble me, little mage,” he choked. “Will you not cast one spell?” There was deep desperation in his voice, real, audible fear. “I will not hold it against you.”

Her ass clenched around his cock as if on its own, and this time, real pleasure spread through her, battling the pain, pushing it away, feeding off it and in turn making it burn higher, hotter. She let out a shaky breath, then arched up towards him, taking him even further in with a small wince of pain and a moan of pleasure escaping at the same time.

“Damn you. Fenris,” she choked. “Finish what you started.”

A little jolt of surprise; Bethany realised that she had shocked him-yet again!- and a small chuckle nearly escaped her. It was lost on a gargled breath of pain as he slid out of her nearly to the root then slammed back in, making her scream once more. The twin arcs of pleasure and pain mixed into something indescribable; suddenly she knew why it was that women allowed men this act, something that she had never understood before and had puzzled over when Isabela had gotten a dreamy look in her eyes talking about it. It was so incredibly decadent, so darkly erotic, so forbidden. The pain only made the pleasure hotter; the pleasure made the pain turn to just another caress, something to be used to shatter a body into tiny points of ecstasy and bliss.

The elf above her probably wouldn’t have been able to stop even if she did use the dark magic to release them all from the spell in the chamber, she realised as he shook violently above her and then graced her with a low, drawn-out moan in that velvety voice of his. His rigid control shattered, as he let his anger and distaste go, and now that effects of the spell on him were even more pronounced. Bethany could swear the girth of his cock doubled inside her, swelling even further; her anus complained, then fluttered around the steely length in acceptance.

“OH, Maker!” She wailed as Fenris drew back on his knees, holding her legs open and outstretched with his hands on her ankles before delivering a few jabbing thrusts deep inside her, his whole body shuddering wildly. She could feel every vein, every ridge along his shaft, the silvery lines of his markings, as his cock tunnelled inside her then withdrew, teased around the puckered entrance only to reopen it and plunge balls deep again.

“I won’t last,” he warned her and she panted up at him, wincing in both pain and pleasure, caught between asking him to hurry up and never stop.

All it took for her to come with a violence that nearly dislocated all her joints was for Fenris to lay one small, barely there touch on her aching clit. Her eyes flew wide open in alarm as something big, a humongous wave of something frighteningly intense build up inside her then crashed, taking her under. She keened his name, thrashing so violently that he was dislodged from inside her, then arched straight off the ground. Fenris growled, losing all control himself, and he just rolled her over, even as her body was still jerking, then pushed her legs open with his knee before once again entering her.

It was even tighter this way, his entrance even more painful, the pressure on her stretched ass even greater. Fluids gushed out of her and soaked the ground underneath her as she contracted again, drawing deep convulsing breaths. Above her, Fenris had laid his entire weight on her body, pushing her down, his corded frame arching to just drive his cock as far up inside her as possible. He rocked against her backside, his shaft pummelling her, stretching her, branding her.

She came again when he spurted inside her, filling her ass with fire, long, drawn-out gushes of seed surging inside her. He moaned once, but it was enough; in that hoarse, gravelly voice of his, that one moan was enough to send her in another fit of spasming pleasure. Totally spent, she went limp underneath him, feeling the need to sob; he had been hard with her, fucking her without any reservation, without any tenderness. But then again, she felt the need to purr contentedly too. The pleasure had been so great she could not hold it against him.

“Vasta fas. Little mage?” he asked, his voice for once devoid of anger. “Bethany? Are you...I hurt you. Was it too much? Does it hurt? ”

“Yes,” she purred. “Maker, it hurts. It’s so _good_ , how it hurts.”

A moment of stunned silence before a surprisingly tender kiss landed on her cheek as Fenris shifted his weight, withdrawing from the clutching tightness of her body. He caught the wince of slight pain and cringed. “Will you tell Blythe?”

Bethany shot him a look over her shoulder. “My brother is in love with you,” she said, and this time she _did_ laugh at the shocked expression in his eyes. “What, you didn't know?”

“I...suspected.” Fenris blushed then looked away. His expression fell. Bethany’s soft skin was peppered with bruises, her ass reddened, leaking with his seed. “He will not forgive this,” he muttered then rose gracefully to his feet and walked to the little pool to the other side, coming back with his cotton tunic wet and wrung out. He started carefully cleaning Bethany’s flesh, blushing a little as he cleared away the evidence of what he’s just done to her.

“You had no choice.”

“Cruelty is always a choice,” Fenris answered, his voice subdued, “and I was cruel. Undeservedly so. Forgive me.”

“Yes, you were,” she said, looking at him with a small smile. “But…I can understand…how hard this is for you.” At Fenris’ startled look she shrugged, suddenly fearing that what they were now discussing was even more intimate than what they had just done. “Being at the control of magic, I mean,” she clarified, “after trying so hard to escape it.”

A small tightening of Fenris’ lips verified her suspicion that she had hit the nail head on. She looked away, knowing that the stoic elf disliked having his feelings and motives analyzed like this, and prepared to apologise.

“You are entirely too correct,” he murmured, looking away himself. A small chuckle then escaped him. “Will the Hawkes never cease to amaze me?” he wondered out loud. He then looked at Bethany, his eyes now softened with something akin to tenderness, making her wonder if it was her or her brother he was seeing. “Your family seems to possess an uncanny talent for reading minds,” the elf commented.

“Just of those we care about,” she answered. “Blythe cares a great deal, you know.”

“He foolishly thinks himself in love with me, you just said that.”

“Foolishly?” Bethany shrugged. “Perhaps. Maker knows Blythe was never one not to know his own heart, though.”

“He is infatuated.”

“He loves you.”

A small smile graced the elf’s lips. “Perhaps.”

Bethany rolled her eyes. “If it suits you to believe that, alright. I won’t insist. But I do know my brother, Fenris.”

Fenris tossed the tunic away, after cleaning himself off too. “For what it’s worth,” he leaned in to lightly peck a kiss on Bethany’s cheek. “I do know one thing as well. I was wrong. There are mages that will never go astray; I just found the first of them.”

Bethany smiled at him then snorted as a surprised voice sounded from behind the rocks.

“Enlightenment by fucking,” Anders said. “ _Well_. That’s a first.”

* * *

Bethany watched Fenris go, stretching her muscles, taking stock of her aching body. Anders’ head peeked over the rocks, then disappeared again, and he muttered something to the elf, that Bethany didn’t hear, but was full of anger. Fenris’ voice was also subdued when he answered, and before she knew it, Anders was by her side, casting healing magic on her, turning her this way and that to better access her pains and aches.

She was beyond being embarrassed of her nakedness by then, and the snarling beast of that terrible arousal had subside for a while, letting her just feel contentment and the soft, lingering joy of an amazing after sex glow. Anders hands shook as he slid a hand down the crack of her ass and she winced a little, both embarrassed and smug that she could affect him like that.

“Poor little asshole,” Anders crooned, then leaned in and kissed the puckered opening, making Bethany gasp.

“Anders!”

“What?” Varric’s voice made her raise her head. “Ah, Sunshine, if you wanted someone to kiss the booboo away, you should have asked unca Varric.”

Anders hummed, his face buried between her ass cheeks, lapping away at the seed that was escaping her without any shame.

Varric settled next to her, sitting down comfortably eyeing Anders with a look that tried to be casual, but was betrayed by a fire of want even he couldn’t mask. “It’s amazing what a little lust spell teaches you about people. Anders, there for example, has an unhealthy appetite for spunk.”

Bethany snorted, then moaned when Anders’ tongue lapped lower.

“And our dear Elf has a sadistic streak a mile wide. No surprise there.”

“What about you?” Bethany smiled, reassured with Varric’s easy, casual acceptance of the situation. “Any dark secrets that might come up about you?”

Varric kicked Anders’ shoulder, then pointedly nodded towards the boulders once the mages’ head snapped up. He watched the human retreat, licking his lips, then turned to Bethany with a slight smile and a slow, appreciative sweep of his gaze over her naked flesh. “You get exactly what you see, Sunshine.”

She crawled to him, entranced, as always by that patch of dark hair showing through his open shirt.

“What I have always wanted to see,” she said, settling on his lap, “is if your chest hair is as soft as it looks.”

Varric chuckled, although the tent in his breeches underneath her bottom belied his faked casualness. He was obviously as affected as the rest, but hiding it quite well; or perhaps it was his built in dwarven resistance to magic that had allowed him not to be a drooling mess by now. She purred contentedly as she nuzzled against his throat, one hand petting his chest, her fingers curling through the amazingly soft pelt that decorated it. It would be nice doing this with someone who would be able to stay in control of himself.

Varric hummed under his breath, then brought a hand up to cup her face, guiding her mouth to his.

“You know, Sunshine,” he said, “I’ve wanted to do this forever.”

“What, kiss me? _Me_?”

Varric sighed in frustration. “No, your brother.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you.”

“You never showed me anything, not a glance, not a word...”

“With Hawke breathing down your neck like that? I value my testicles where they are, thank you very much, not chopped in Blythe’s salad.”

She smiled, then rubbed her ass over that bulge in his britches, her hand still petting him. A hand caught her wrist. “Careful, Sunshine,” Varric’s soft voice dropped a whole octave. “You’re playing with fire, here.”

She huffed up at his smiling eyes. “How come you’re not as affected as the rest of us?” she pouted “Dwarven resistance can only go that far.”

 Varric’s cheeks reddened just a tiny bit before he coughed into his hand. “That’s because I have...ahem...already painted the ceiling.”

Bethany gave him a perplexed look and he just winked. “You know,” he nodded to his tenting britches. “Had a date with Rosy Palm.”

Bethany’s lips twitched before her face scrounged up in confusion. “But Fenris said self-gratification was not possible. We all tried.”

“I didn’t do any self-whatsacalled it,” Varric shrugged, then dipped his mouth to capture hers. Bethany sighed and went lax on his lap, surrendering to the feeling of his lips on hers, his surprisingly arousing, masculine taste. His tongue was wickedly talented in things other than spinning wild tales, it seemed, because one kiss had her moaning and squirming, gyrating against the hardness in his britches. “It’s the writer’s curse: a vivid imagination. Hearing you scream like this for the elf while he did you up the back door...even dwarves aren’t really made of stone.”

She stifled a chuckle. “You...came in your pants?”

“Rub it in.”

“I think I will,” she chuckled again, manoeuvring so that the thick rod straining in his britches rested right between the pert globes of her ass.

He choked a small moan with his chuckle, then bent to kiss her again, this time more insistently, using the pressure of his lips and teeth so that she was forced to open up to him completely. With a small sigh of want, his tongue surged into her mouth, exploring her, twining with her own and once again setting her on fire. She suckled at the intruder and he hummed his pleasure, his hands coming up to cup her pert breasts and ruthlessly pinch and pull at her stiff nipples.

He pulled away from her mouth with a small, amused smile masking the pleasure her lips had given him. “Ah, Sunshine,” he sighed. “You taste just as sweet as the rest of you is.”

She smiled shyly, then arched up, begging for another kiss. But Varric’s talented mouth had already slipped down her creamy neck, licking and biting and kissing and leaving bruises and hickies on its way. He spent a few seconds rubbing his cheek on the amazingly soft skin of her shoulder, then slid further down, to rub his face between her pert breasts, before sucking one of her nipples in his mouth. Bethany arched her back, a choked cry of his name escaping her, pushing her flesh harder into his mouth. Her female core was already heating up again, juices flowing out of her, soaking his britches.

With a muttered groan, Varric raised her up a little higher, impatient for the first time. One hand fumbled to release his length, then he settled her on his lap again, but this time, a hard, hot length was nudged just between the drenched lips of her sex, the broad tip brushing her clit. She moaned at the sensation then shamelessly rode him, rubbing herself against his hardness and one hand clasping his head by his short ponytail so that his talented mouth wouldn’t leave the nipple it was tormenting with slow, languid suckling motions. Her other hand was still buried in his chest hair, petting and pulling slightly, caressing the flat disk of his nipple hidden in the silky hair.

“Bethany. Sunshine...” Varric mumbled with amusement in his voice, “let go of the hair, little girl.”

Bethany blinked at him then her hand let go of his ponytail, realising with embarrassment that she had been pulling so hard that strands of hair had stuck to her palm.

“Good, baby.” Varric chuckled. “Now let go of the other hair too.”

Bethany looked down at her other hand and realised she had a death grip on his chest hair, pulling it with a force that must have been painful. She smiled sheepishly at him, her hand still clutching a handful of hair.

Varric’s smile slowly fell. His eyes lost the mirth and amused indulgence and for the first time she saw real, burning hunger alight in their whisky coloured depths. Her breath caught; this wasn’t the Varric she knew, her soft, caring teddy-bear that treated her like a kid sister. The man looking at her now was intense and dangerous, with deep, passionate desires running through him, desires he usually kept hidden under a casual, friendly smile. She looked at him, entranced by that dark carnal look in his eyes; and involuntarily, her fist tightened even more, pulling on his chest hair.

Varric growled. Maker above, she had never noticed what a sinfully rich voice Varric had, soft as melted butter, rich like cream. Her breath caught and her mouth fell open, even as fire spread through her system, pooling between her legs. She pulled again, and Varric’s eyes darkened to the colour of malt whiskey, before they narrowed at her.

“Sunshine,” he warned, his voice thick with warning and want. “Fire. Playing with it. You’re gonna get burnt.”

She rubbed his cock along her cleft one more time, then yanked hard on his chest hair, her head falling back with a little breathless moan.

“I don’t care,” she sighed. “Burn me, Varric, burn for me.”

A snarl twisted Varric’ face, and he attacked her mouth in a kiss that could only be described as brutal. Two large, calloused hands cupped her ass and lifted her up, then lowered her down, on something hard and thick-Maker, it was so thick! She struggled to accept him, looking down to see that Varric’s cock was built just like the dwarf himself: short, but stout and broad, thicker than her forearm, a huge, purple with arousal tip trying to slip inside her and not managing it. He cursed, then his hips surged upwards, and Bethany’s eyes bulged out. She lost her breath on a shocked gasp. Maker, he was huge inside her, stretching the still unused to such invasion muscles of her poor cunt to full capacity.

She cried out, then squirmed in his grasp, trying to get away. She felt as if she was losing her virginity all over again; the same searing pain, the same feeling of uncomfortable intrusion. She gasped and panted, her body completely rigid with tension as Varric worked his cock inch by torturous inch inside her, until she thought he would rip her apart.

“Stone take me,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “You’re so tight. What did the others fuck you with? Their pinkies?”

She couldn’t answer him; she just looked at him, her eyes fogged with desire and pain mixing with pleasure. Her hands had tightened on his broad shoulders and now she was clawing at him, and chanting his name as that wide, stretching cock pushed her womanly flesh to the limits of its endurance. She keened in distress when the thick root of his cock slid inside her and immediately, he was crooning to her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, running his big hands up and down her trembling back.

Her panic subsided, along with the pain. Pleasure started spreading, with the thumbing of his heartbeat throbbing in his cock vibrating through the stretched walls of her sheath. Then the wide rod inside her twitched, and her flesh twitched in response, relaxing, accepting, gushing out her juices to bathe the intruder in liquid heat, welcoming him.

Varric moaned in her ear, making her shiver with the rich cadre of his voice once more, before he used his hands under her thighs to lift her slightly up and then let her slide back down. Bethany’s heart stilled; bliss spread through her, making her toes curl.

“More,” she gasped. “Faster.”

“Easy, Sunshine,” Varric was sweating now, his whole body quivering. “I don’t want to hurt you. Nice and easy now. Let’s let this sweet little cunt of yours get used to me.”

She didn’t try to convince him; it would be useless. Varric was nothing if not protective, and she would never convince him to give her the brutal, violent fucking that would put out the fires ranging in her womb. Instead, she slid both hands up his chest, over his nipples, then grasped his chest hair and pulled, yanking with all her strength. Varric howled, then his hands tightened on her thighs; when he opened his eyes again, the look in them was wild.

He barred his teeth at her, growling in warning and she almost swooned. More wetness gushed out of her and her nails racked bloody welts in his wide shoulders. Varric lifted her up again, then slammed her down, forcing her tight little sheath to take him straight down to the root. He wasn't long enough to reach the end of her, like Sebastian and Anders had, but his thickness all but made up for it as he ground his hips against her mount, as if trying to force her to take even his balls inside her.

Pleasure spread, now that her pliant flesh had stretched enough to accommodate him, slicking him up with a torrent of her juices. She found that moving up and down on her own was more bliss than she could ever have imagined, setting her own rhythm, rubbing her engorged nub on the thick length that had taken over her sex. Varric indulged her, letting her move on his cock at her own pace, breathing through his nose and gritting his teeth to control himself. He closed his eyes when she shuddered around his cock, coming with a wail of pleasure, because he was certain the sight of her coming, combined with the rhythmic clenching of her tight little cunt would undo him. One more thrust inside her tightened sheath and she was screaming again, being propelled into another orgasm right on the heels of the last one- and she responded by yanking on his chest hair again.

Nothing could have turned the normally controlled, smooth dwarf more feral than the feeling of her sex squeezing his cock, his name falling from her lips in broken screams, and her small, soft hands tangling in his chest hair and pulling hard. With a muffled curse word, he lifted her up a bit, fumbled for just one second, taking aim, the pushed up her ass.

Bethany went completely still, her eyes opening wide.

"No, no, no," she shook her head. "I can't. Varric, I can't! "

"You can and you will, Sunshine," Varric growled, claiming her lips in a kiss that stole what was left of her breath. Her already sore ass protested with a searing flash of agony as the puckered opening struggled to take Varric's thickness, and she sobbed in his mouth.

"Shhh, baby," Varric soothed her, regaining his control with a twinge of guilt at her distress. "Uncle Varric will never hurt you, you know that."

She found herself on her hands and knees, too dazed to realised when and how he'd moved her, still trying to catch her breath from her two destructive orgasms and the blind panic she'd felt as that thick cock head, almost as wide as her fist, had probed at her opening. She jerked in fear when something touched her there but with a sigh of relief she realised it was just Varric's finger, tenderly and carefully tracing the rim of the tight ring of her anus, slicked in the juices that had escaped her. She relaxed; the sensation was far from painful, it was quite pleasurable, making her whole sex clench in need. Even when that finger penetrated, she only greeted it with a sigh of longing. It felt so good- her ass had already been stretched by Fenris, and her flesh remembered the pleasure that had followed the initial pain.

She wiggled her ass, getting more comfortable each minute, actually giggling when Varric groaned, then sucked in a deep breath as another finger joined the first one. A breathy sigh of pleasure fell out of her mouth as those two fingers gyrated inside her, the tiny sting of pain making her muscles clench in a sudden wave of heat that seemed to spread from her ass to her sex. Varric’s other hand dipped in her sloppy slit, then inched her aching little nub, before caressing it expertly; she moaned, a low animalistic sound of pure lust.

“Turn over, baby,” Varric ordered in a voice choked with want. “I want a taste of that sweetness.”

She complied, getting breathless once more with anticipation and desperate to have his magic fingers on her again. Varric shot her a molten look of lust, then pushed her thighs back, exposing her drenched slit and the reddened little hole underneath it. Before she knew it, two fingers once more dipped in the loosened confines of her ass, while his other hand opened her up; Varric gazed at the trembling flesh before him for one second, before sliding his tongue over her slit, gathering the thick, musky cream that had flooded her down to her knees. She moaned in pleasure, her eyes drifting shut, one of her hands coming up to palm her own breast and pull at the aching tip.

Varric’s tongue was talented, but she should have expected that. Agile and dexterous as it was when spinning tales, it taught her things about pleasure she would never have imagined, exploring every nook and cranny, lovingly lapping her up. His fingers continued thrusting inside her and when a third thick finger penetrated she just welcomed it with a breathy moan of bliss. Three fingers were now plunging inside her, opening her up, and while somewhere at the back of her mind she was aware that he was preparing her to take that extremely thick cock of his, and though the thought scared her, she couldn’t be bothered to care right now. Not while his mouth was already pushing towards an orgasm that promised to be one of the best so far, and not while her ass was practically throbbing with pleasure.

She put her other hand in her mouth, biting down on her knuckles to stifle her wanton cries of pleasure when Varric’s lips wrapped around her clit and suckled her hard. Something uncoiled inside her, something so intense that it made the muscles of her stomach cramp. She arched up against his mouth, mewling and thrashing as a huge wave of pleasure crashed over her once again, throwing her body into a fit of spasms and tremors. She screeched his name, then went limp, his mouth still suckling her over-sensitised nub, drawing her orgasm out into soft, incredibly sweet little tremors of pure bliss.

When she could finally catch her breath again, and her brain was able to from thoughts that looked to be coherent, she realised another finger had been added in her ass; four now, Varric’s almost entire palm. The feeling was now uncomfortable as her already sore ass became taut with four thick dwarven fingers; she gasped then tensed a little, before Varric once again started crooning to her with his hoarse voice, soft like hot honey, cajoling her and praising her.

“You can take it, Sunshine,” he cajoled. “I’ve never seen such a tight little ass stretch so beautifully, sweetness. I bet you’re going to choke my cock when I put it up there.”

Her eyes widened before her head fell back with a sigh of surrender. He was stroking her from the inside, through the thin membrane that separated her two tight channels. She could feel his fingers almost touch her womb, caressing the channel that was still vibrating with her orgasm.

“It can’t be done,” she panted. “You’re too wide.”

“ _Au contraire_ ,” Varric smoothly replied. “Observe.”

His fingers withdrew, just to be replaced with something incredibly wide and hot, covered in velvety soft skin. Her eyes widened, and she stiffened up, expecting excruciating pain as his broad, fist-sized cock head pushed in- but surprisingly, after a small hesitation of resistance, her flesh gave way, welcoming the thick intruder.

Varric roared to the ceiling as he slid balls deep inside her clenching ass, until he could go no further. He stopped, holding himself as still as possible to give Bethany time to relax, but apparently it wasn’t necessary. Her channel was tighter as a vice around him, but she didn't seem to be in pain; instead, she was gazing up at him with a look that blended shock and pleasure together. Then she thrust upwards, making him move inside her and it was his turn to gasp in surprise. She was hot and tight- and willing, taking him like she was born to take cocks up her snug little ass.

He started moving, shafting her with controlled, easy thrusts, leaning over her to kiss her and she purred at him, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him to her while he fucked her with long, steady strokes, making her mewl. He wasn’t going to last long, and he told her so, but he doubted she’d care either way. She was already coming again, her nails leaving bloody welts on his sweaty shoulders, her eyes tightly closed and her mouth open in a little shock ‘o’ of pleasure.

Varric’s attention was caught by her jingling breasts, falling and rising with her panting breath, and jerking violently with every thrust; just a small taste of her pouty nipple and he felt his spine tingling, his balls gathering at the base of his cock. With a groan, he pulled out, making her whimper, then climbed over her body, his aching cock in head. He just had to see those pretty, coral tipped breasts covered in his seed, so he took himself at hand and pumped violently.

Bethany opened her eyes just as Varric threw his head back, to see long ropes of pearly white seed shoot from the tip of his cock and land on her chest and breasts; it was as sight she would never have thought to be erotic, but now she berated herself for not having watched any of the three men that had taken her while they came. There was something incredibly sensual in watching a male find his pleasure; big, hard body trembling, head thrown back, cock twitching. She came again, just at the sight, then she reached up to touch the scalding white cream decorating her skin. Varric collapsed next to her, panting, still shaking.

A slow clapping started from the other side of the rocks.

“Kudos,” Anders’ voice was almost guttural. “A stellar performance.”

Varric winked at her embarrassed face, then drew her close for a cuddle, heedless of the fact she was sticky, covered in his seed and her own juices.

“Green doesn’t become you, Blondie,” he shouted.

“He’s more blue than green,” another voice groused, and both Bethany’s and Varric’s eyes bulged out in surprise, because the voice belonged to Fenris, and he had just made a joke.

“If only I’d known a good shag was all you needed to find a sense of humour, Elf...” Varric laughed.


	4. Reprieve

Bethany walked gingerly to the little pool of water at the end of the chamber, and dipped a rag –it must have been Fenris’ tunic at some point- into the cool water, cleaning herself up. She avoided thinking of what exactly it was she was cleaning from every orifice, because the spell in the chamber seemed to have abated, and for the first time, her mind seemed to be hers and hers alone, not clouded at the least by the agonising waves of lust that had almost made her writhe in pain.

She was embarrassed now that it seemed to be all over, and incredibly self-conscious. There was a small part of her- the repressed sensual creature inside her- that rejoiced in her new found sexual freedom, but her built-in shyness was coming out to punish her with a vengeance now. She groaned, blushing all over, and bringing her cool hands to her flushed face in mortification. Maker, how was she going to face all of them now? How was she going to face her brother?

 A hand landed on her shoulder and she jerked up, then scrambled to cover herself, one part of her sneering at herself that there was nothing left that they hadn’t seen already and another struggling to maintain what little dignity she had left.

Sebastian knelt by her, drawing her hands away from her face.

“Don’t be ashamed,” he purred in his deep burr. “If there is anyone to be ashamed here, it should be us.”

She avoided meeting his eyes. “Maker,” she sobbed, tears escaping and rolling down her burning face. “What you must all think of me!”

A sigh of frustration came from the tall man next to her, before her face was lifted by a tender, careful hand under her chin. She drew in a little breath of surprise when he leaned in to kiss the tears that had rolled on her face away, his sensual mouth soft as a butterfly’s wings on her skin.

“I am sworn to the Chantry, yet I let my urges dictate my actions. Anders went against all he believes and asked you to use blood magic. So did Fenris, who was violent and vicious to you, a woman that only wanted to help ease his suffering out of the kindness of her heart.”

He closed his eyes and his shoulders dropped. “Only Varric behaved like a gentleman- at least he was careful and tender.”

Bethany bit her lip.

“Did I make the right choice, Sebastian?” her voice was small. “Was I selfish in refusing to use blood magic? I could have let us all out of here within minutes. Instead, I allowed us all to suffer; I made you all do things that you’d never even think of doing –and with me, of all people.”

A small smile curled the mouth of the handsome ex-prince. “I can’t speak for the others but I had...ahem...harboured fantasies of doing exactly those things- _only with you_ , _of all people_.”

She raised surprised eyes to his face. “Me?”

“Oh, yes,” Sebastian purred, making her blush with the totally male look of pure appreciation he shot her naked body. “Many nights praying, for you, miss Hawke. Doing much more wicked things to you than this.”

For a moment, her eyes grew wide with shock. “There are more wicked things to do?” She mumbled, then at Sebastian’s wicked grin she blushed and shook her head. “Forget I just asked that,” she blushed some more, her heart galloping in her chest. “Well, at least the spell has abated,” she mumbled, desperate to change the subject.

Sebastian tensed up next to her. “That’s what I originally came back her to talk to you about,” he said, making warning bells go off in her head. “Fenris says this is likely going to be only a temporary reprieve and that the spell will come back full force in a while. And....it will probably be even worse.”

“Maker help us!” Bethany gasped. He gaze fell to the door. “What is talking Blythe so long?”

* * *

  
There was no point in hiding behind the barrier of the boulders, she decided with a small shrug, so, blushing just slightly, she wrapped her cloak around her body, and then joined the men. They seemed to be expecting her, because they had opened their packs and they all shared their provisions together, taking advantage of the reprieve to eat and rest.

“You said it will get worse,” Bethany shyly addressed the elf across from her, avoiding his eyes.

“The spell does not abate unless blood magic is cast,” Fenris said, his expression sombre. “Or the magister that owns the chamber releases the ones within.”

“You mean prune-faced centuries-old dead guy back there?” Varric pointed back to the direction they had come from. “The one that went GAAAHH, as Hawke re-killed him? _That_ will help.”

Fenris dropped his head.

“Blythe will be back soon,” Bethany said with conviction. “He’ll get us out.”

Anders wrapped himself in his cloak as well, then rested his back more comfortably against the boulder. “If it’s okay with you,” he said with a yawn, “I think I’ll catch some shut eye. If gloom and doom over there is right, I want to at least have some rest before I revert back into a lust-crazed maniac.”

Bethany smiled, then prepared to sleep as well, as did all her other companions; all except Fenris, who was left staring at her, an unusually intense look in his eyes. After a few minutes of trying to relax but being unable to as she felt his eyes on her, she opened her eyes again with a huff of annoyance. Anders and Varric had already fallen asleep, and Sebastian had his eyes closed as well- but whether he was sleeping or just resting them was unknown.

“What?” she hissed to Fenris, aggravated that he was costing her the rest her body so desperately needed.

“Might we speak? Alone?” Fenris asked, indicating the far corner of the chamber, where the old, crumbling bed stood.

She got up and followed him, grumbling inside, but also genuinely curious of what he might want. But Fenris didn't let her wait for long. He settled on the floor, then invited her to join him, watching her under the bangs of his white hair.

“Was I...an animal?” he asked, “Was there nothing I did that you might...have enjoyed?”

A violent blush erupted across Bethany’s cheeks. “Maker, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation!” she exclaimed, then hid her face in her hands.

“I am not an animal!” Fenris insisted, his voice nearly desperate. “Will you allow me to prove it to you?”

"Is it me you want to prove that to,” she blinked at him, “or my brother?"

Fenris looked away, a slight pink tingeing his high cheekbones. “You’re the only Hawke here right now,” he said, giving her a look that was strangely vulnerable- for Fenirs, at least, who had elevated stoicism to a new art form. “You’ll do.”

She hesitated for a moment. “Previously,” she said, blushing even more, “under the effect of that spell...there was an excuse, Fenris.”

Fenris’ eyes widened in understanding. “But now it would be completely your choice.”

“Yes,” Bethany said fidgeting with the edge of her cloak. “And I would have to...explain to Blythe.” She raised her eyes to see a puzzled look in his green eyes. “Why I chose to lay with the man he’s in love with,” she elaborated.

Fenris scowled. “Regardless of what your brother might or not feel, he does not own me.”

“Who said anything about ownership?” Bethany was perplexed. “I am just explaining to you, Fenris, that my brother will see this as betrayal.”

Fenris got up and started pacing. “And he will not see as betrayal the fact that I raped his sister?”

“You didn’t rape me Fenris!” she protested. “I invited you; I gave permission!”

“You had no choice!”

“I did!” she lowered her voice, fearing she would wake the rest. “I could have cast blood magic.”

“For you, that is not a choice,” Fenris cursed, then bowed his head to her. “You would never do that. And neither would Blythe. I know that now.”

Bethany blushed, a hot rush of pleasure at the reluctant praise spreading through her. She tried to speak, to convince him, and perhaps erase that look of guilt and self-reproach from his face, but he didn't let her speak. “I need to prove to you that I am not a raping brute.”

“You are not.”

“Prove it. Let me have you again. Or are you too afraid of me now?”

There was fear in his eyes, regret and pain; she realised he was terrified of what Blythe might do and say when he learnt how tough he had been with her. Her heart broke for him and for her brother as well, who had fallen head over heels into this impossible romance, with this prickly, scarred man, that was so afraid to let himself love. And just right that, her decision was made, her choice taken. She crawled closer to him, then raised his face with a tender hand under his chin, and kissed him.

It was a soft kiss, intimate but full of tenderness and hesitancy, like first kisses should be, like the first, timid touch of true lovers. His lips were soft and full, the curve of his mouth lick-worthy, fitting perfectly across hers. His kiss tasted like the man himself; exotic, dark, mysterious- a hint of spice and lyrium. She raised up on her knees, making him throw his head back to continue kissing her, her one hand on his face, the other fisting in his silky hair. He started trembling under her kiss, as if tenderness was something he was totally unaccustomed to- and all bets were that he truly was.

One tender kiss turned into another, getting more heated, wetter, more passionate. Bethany had always suspected that behind his gruff, bristly exterior Fenris was really a passionate creature, a creature of pure sensuality; he was intense enough, focused enough, not to give himself in half measures. He obviously had no problems responding to both sexes, as well, because she had caught the same half-lidded, lustful look he was giving her now directed towards her brother when the elf had thought no one was looking.

With a small sigh, she pushed thoughts of Blythe out of her mind; this was for him as much as it was for Fenris and her. She had no reason to feel guilty for enjoying the kiss of the man her brother was taken with. This was about proving to Fenris he could be tender, about giving the elf a token of trust, like a gesture telling him she trusted him to be with her beloved brother without hurting him. As far as giving Fenris her blessing went, this was the best she could do.

Fenris’ mouth trailed lower, sliding to her neck; tender kisses, timid licks and tiny, inflaming nips that he laved over afterwards. His hands slipped into her cloak and pushed it backwards over her arms, a little moan escaping him at the sight of her pert breasts, rosy and flushed with arousal and a little bit of embarrassment. He flicked one thumb over her stiff nipple, watching it as is drew into an even stiffer peak, puckering up as if begging for his mouth. A look to her face, uncertainty in his eyes as if asking for permission- she smiled, and used the hand still fisted in his hair to push his head down. Warm, soft lips wrapped around the tip, then he drew her nipple in his wet mouth, suckling her like a hungry child, rolling her aching tip with his tongue. Her heart started galloping; his one hand came up to cup her other breast, resting on her heartbeat, as if the sound of it was something he relished. His markings alighted- instead of getting nervous with his glowing hand resting as it was over her heart, she arched into his touch even more, softly murmuring his name.

“Little mage,” he murmured against her flesh, rubbing his cheek on the satiny skin of her breast. “Once again, you humble me.”

“You can use some humbling,” she chuckled back and to her great surprise, a small sound like a choked snort of laughter escaped him as well, before he angled his head upwards once again for another kiss. It was better still, with the arching of his lips into a slight smile, as if that made the kiss sweeter. Humour suited him, she thought. Bitterness too often twisted that sensuous mouth into a frown, and that somehow tinged his kiss. But now he was suddenly relaxed, teasing, at ease with her.

Without warning, he had her on her back again, a small yelp of surprise escaping her before she went limp underneath him. His hands roamed all over her body, this time taking the time to explore and pet and soothe. She moaned under his touch, finding out that she didn't need the spell to react with total abandon after all; her body now knew pleasure was around the corner and wanted it with a savage need, even though she felt sated and exhausted.

As his mouth trailed even lower down her body, over her soft belly and down to where she was already wet for him, she purred her excitement; her legs fell open on their own, her eyes drifted shut. The first touch of his tongue was a shock of pleasure; the second like a fuse had been lit. Something ignited inside her, something dark and primal, some desire to be taken that was far from being civilised. She keened his name, bringing one hand over her mouth to stifle her cries, while that hot, talented tongue tasted and tormented her. The lyrium over his skin ignited, and her magic responded to it, trying to drain the power that was making his body thrum and at the same time wrapping around it, caressing it. Like tinder to flame, it fed it and consumed it at the same time.

Fenris didn’t take long before joining his flesh to hers; just like before, when he was under the effect of the spell, he was impatient to have her. He waited until she crested once, moaning in her cleft as she gushed out her pleasure for him, her whole body tensed like a bow and her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. Then he moved up her body, taking her lips again and slipping inside her with one long thrust, hilting himself in her wetness. He moaned once, low and deep, the sound vibrating in his chest. Bethany arched up, gasping his name; her sheath felt oversensitive and even though she had been taken multiple times that night, she was still snug around him, and his length still felt like a red hot rod of steel stabbing in her most tender flesh.

“ _Venhedis_. I _want_ to be slow,” Fenris growled. “But you feel too good.” He smiled sheepishly, one corner of his mouth going slightly up. “And you smell like Blythe.”

“Same soap.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, then his smile grew wider, making her heart flutter. “Same deplorable sense of humour, as well.”

She kissed him again, taking in his masculine taste, her hands on his face, her legs climbing up to wrap around his slim hips and drawing him even deeper. Slow, tender thrusts touched the very end of her, rasped against sensitive nerve endings, pushed her slowly and inexorably towards a free-fall of sensation that made her whole body tingle and her female core clench. The elf above her seemed to be completely focused on her pleasure alone, moaning in his dark, rich voice, gritting his teeth to hang on to his control.

A muffled groan answered him, coming from their left. Bethany turned her face, Fenris nibbling on her neck as he slowly, languidly thrust inside her. Sebastian was a few feet away, reclined against a wall, his blue eyes focused on them, one hand rubbing an impressive erection up and down as he watched the couple in front of them writhe on the floor. That was the push that shoved Bethany off the cliff, the sight of Sebastian biting his lip as he watched with hungry eyes while Fenris fucked her. She moaned the elf’s name, looking straight into the ex-prince’s eyes, her whole body burning up, thrashing as it found rapture. Fenris tensed above her, then with a small, helpless sigh he came inside her; long, hot pulses of his seed filling her up.

When he could catch his breath again, Fenris rolled off her, laying a final kiss on her shoulder, and groaned.

“He has been watching since the start,” he informed her, one arm covering his eyes. “Go to him. I know you want to.”

Bethany kissed the corner of his mouth, taking the time to whisper, “you are not a monster, Fenris,” before she all but crawled towards Sebastian. Her legs were still trembling; she wasn't sure they would support her to walk the short distance; plus, there was something hot and wild in the normally mild-mannered, controlled prince’s eyes that was all blatant male invitation. It was something that woke a side of her she never knew she had, a side that longed to submit, to be dominated.

So she crawled to him; something in his eyes made her legs weak, along with the tremors that were still racking her from Fenris’ slow, leisurely lovemaking. As she neared him, her eyes were drawn to the thick, rigid shaft rising from a nest of auburn curls, strong and proud, glistening slightly. She licked her lips without even thinking of it, and Sebastian groaned, before proudly circling his erection with one hand and squeezing at the base, making the engorged veins on the shaft pop out even more.

Sebastian’s cerulean eyes had darkened to a stormy, midnight blue. He caught her languid, soft gaze, fogged with lust and female appreciation, and time seemed to freeze and stand still. This wasn't due to an effect of a spell, Bethany realised with a jolt, this wasn’t forced. It was a male wanting a female, plain and simple, and she rejoiced in that fact, in her new found feminine power over that magnificent specimen of masculinity before her. A slow smile, wicked and sensual, spread over her lips as the last trace of any virginal timidity she had left melted away and she embraced her sensuality completely.

 She laid her small hands on both of Sebastian’s muscular thighs, enjoying the firmness and heat of his flesh, then racked her fingernails down his skin, making him hiss- but he didn't break eye contact.  His hand tightened more around his thick shaft, and his pulse started thumping in the hollow of his neck, as he waited, breath bated and eyes blazing, for her next move. She held his eyes as she leaned forward, her nostrils flaring at the scent of heated musk rolling off him in waves, then she licked along his length- one slow, decadent slide of her tongue over the velvety soft underside of his cock.

 He sighed in relief, his head falling back and his neck cording. “Yessss,” he hissed, his hand falling away to allow her better access. “Yer so good, lass,” he purred, his accent even thicker, the Starkhaven burr of his voice even more pronounced. “Just like that, sweetling.”

Another slow lick from top to bottom, while Bethany brought her other hand up to fondle the soft, pliant sack under his rigid cock, rolling his sensitive testicles in her palm, amazed at the softness and vulnerability. Such power and softness combined together; his cock- rigid yet covered in incredibly silky skin; the smoothness of his sack; the heavy, virile weight of his testicles weighted in the palm of her hand.

A drop of liquid appeared at the tiny opening of his cock’s mushroom shaped head, and she gathered it in with her tongue, unashamed. She rolled the taste around in her mouth, then decided she wanted more of it, so she closed her lips around his crown, drawing the tip of his length in the velvety heat of her mouth and sucked. Sebastian moaned, his body jerked.

“Like that,” he urged her. “Take me deeper.”

She complied with a heated look upwards, to catch the flushed expression of want on his face. His cock slid in her mouth, filling it with his taste- rich, virile, musky- until it hit the back of her neck and she had to draw back so as not to gag.

“Again,” he commanded, his thick burr making his voice almost unrecognisable. “Deeper. Ye can swallow it all, lass,” he knotted a hand in her hair. “Ye were born to take cock.”

 She hummed around his length, then took him in even deeper, rejoicing in the deep, reverberating moan that escaped him.  She pulled back up, swirling her tongue around the thick crown, then slinking back down, taking him in inch by torturous inch. The hand that was fisted in her hair tightened even further, pushing her down, trying to force her to take more. She could feel herself getting drenched once again, the tender flesh between her legs throbbing. A mix of Fenris’ seed and her own fluids were leaking out of her, running down her legs. 

Suddenly, a hand was caressing her between her legs, gathering up her juices and she looked behind her, to see Anders on his knees, licking his fingers with a ravenous look on his face. She drew in a deep breath of shocked arousal; his blond hair had come undone from the small pony tail at his nape and now his blond hair shaded his face, which was flushed and tensed with need. He looked like a lusty male animal, on edge and poised behind her, his length standing arrogantly in attention. Bethany shot a small look to Sebastian, to see if he minded, but the look on the archer’s face was nothing short of wicked. So she just went back to her task, happily slurping at his aching cock as if it was her favourite treat, while Anders caressed and petted her core, making her moan around Sebastian’s length.

The two men exchanged a hot look without her knowing it, and Anders moved further forward, lining up his cock with her opening and surging inside her with a thrust that pushed her forward and made her take Sebastian’s cock straight down her throat. She gasped, then choked a little, but Anders withdrawal had the effect of dragging her back, until only the tip of the archer’s thick flesh filled her mouth. She realised what they were doing with a moan of arousal and surrender, then allowed them both control as the fire on her belly once again started rising to an inferno of want and pleasure.

They worked together in a perfectly choreographed dance. Anders’ thrusts, sure and steady, pushed her forwards and then pulled her backwards over Sebastian’s cock. When the ex-prince’s hips started jerking upwards  in little desperate thrusts, the movement only served to send her even more forcefully into the awaiting cock behind her, making her take him as deeply as possible. They both took her like this together, moaning her name, their bodies undulating, the pace building more and more frantic, until with a roar of ecstasy, Sebastian fisted both his hands in her hair and emptied himself in her mouth. His masculine taste, salty and a bit bitter, flooded her senses, propelling her into an orgasm she was unprepared for; it snuck up on her, surprising her totally, making her gasp and involuntarily swallow down every rich drop of his seed. Behind her, Anders sped up as he also neared his end, then touched one finger to the tight spot where his cock invaded her body and released a small spark of electricity along with his seed. Sebastian’s cock slipped out of her mouth with a cry of pleasure as she trembled under another, stronger wave of pure bliss, feeling her sheath fill up and thick cream rolling down her throat.

She didn't remember much after that, only that Fenris was the one that carried her back to their makeshift camp, while the others were left to make their own way back as best as they could, trembling and feeling light headed. She snuggled up next to Fenris, her head pillowed on his chest. As in a dream she thought Sebastian cuddled up behind her, his big body dwarfing her and keeping her warm. There was something lying across her legs, also sharing body heat with her, and she deduced it must be Anders, but she didn't have the strength necessary to open her eyes and check.

A few hours later, Varric cracked one eye open to see them all sleeping together, naked, amassed into a huge puppy pile.

“I missed something, didn’t I?” he asked, and Anders that had also opened his eyes when he heard him stir couldn’t help but chuckle.


	5. Full Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wan't going to post anymore chapters today, but Shadow's last comment, about this being just what she needed to get through life's general douchbaggery, leaves me no choice but to post more.   
> Enjoy.  
> Plus. Serious risk of WPS (Wet Panty Syndrom), Bring extra undies.

Bethany woke with a start, as something heavy and suppressing choked her breath; a surge of dark, oppressive magic, like murky water closing over her and making her head swim and her ears hurt. She struggled for breath, as if struggling to rise over at the surface but her lungs seemed to have constricted. At the same time, a wave of painful arousal hit her body, making her jerk and gasp; her whole body was instantly bathed in a sheen of sweat and then started shaking desperately, squeezed in the vice of agonising, gut-clenching lust.

Behind her she felt Sebastian’s body draw tense with a similar effect, and Fenris jerked away from her with a moan of pain and his markings flashing to brilliant life as the wave of magic assaulted him too. Anders rolled away from her, his whole body arching of the ground and his hands coming up to cup his groin; all three men hardened with a twitch of pain, as their cocks went from flaccid to painfully swollen within an unnatural short time, almost instantly.

Varric cursed across the floor from them,

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. He looked down at his groin, where his cock had also leapt to attention, although it was obvious the effects of the magic were not so pronounced on him. “Nug. Shit!” he gritted out, his eyes scared as he watched the humans and the elf writhe with pain and arousal. “This...can’t be good.”

Bethany’s eyes were fogged, her brain murky. “It hurts,” she just mumbled, her hands clutching at the aching muscles of her abdomen where spasms of arousal had tautened her up like a tightly wound coil. “Sebastian! Fenris!”

Unable to even try and resist the call of the magic surrounding him, the two males obeyed to her call. Suddenly, she found herself sandwiched between two hard, trembling bodies; the incredible heat of their sweat-slicked flesh soothed and at the same time worsened the effects of the spell, making her arousal burn even hotter. There was no time for kisses, for tender caresses, for any kind of foreplay- and no need also. Her core was weeping with excitement, gushing her cream to wet her down to her knees. Fenris’ cock twitched against her belly, making her choke out a plea for him to hurry; one groaned curse later his long, thick cock was balls deep inside her, as with a  wild, uncontrollable shudder Fenris pulled her almost astride him and hammered up a sure thrust into her depths.

She sighed in relief, but it was short-lived. The feeling of that long, lyrium infused shaft inside her made her core clench violently, pushing the lust that was tormenting her body one notch higher. She lost her breath on the next thrust, and her brain shut down; no thoughts, no guilt, nothing but want and desire and the painful need to just be, feel, to be nothing more than flesh being pleasured. Behind her, she felt Sebastian rise to his knees, between Fenris’ spread thighs, and his cock line up with the entrance of her ass. Although at some distant corner of her brain she was aware of what the prince intended to do, she couldn’t care; she didn't want to care. She wanted to be filled with a desperation that would have been frightening if she could feel anything else but want. When his cock pushed past the ring of muscles to burrow deep inside her a primal scream of nothing but pleasure escaped her; she was full, taken, stretched beyond imagining. And that was what she needed, all her body craved.

She moaned, low, deep, a rumbling sound of surrender and lust. Maker, they felt so good inside her, one cock stretching her trembling, clutching sheath, the other shooting arrows of pain and pleasure up her tender, abused ass. She could feel their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin membrane separating the two channels and she was sure they could feel it too, judging by the choked cries of each other’s names that escaped the two men.  Her tight passages rippled around their lengths, as if inviting them to move, and after just a long, swollen moment of shocked pause, that’s exactly what they gave her.

One cock pulled back, dragging along sensitive nerve endings, while the other thrust forward. She couldn’t tell who was doing what anymore; all her existence had focused on those two tight points of entry, losing connection with reality. In. Out. Thrust. Withdrawal. One length of steely hard male flesh filling her, while the other left her. Her mouth fell open in a long, silent wail of bliss, while her body flamed up with magic and the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

Something warm, silky and incredibly hard invaded her open mouth; without even thinking about it, her lips closed around it, and she sucked hard as if it was going to give her the breath her oxygen-starved brain needed. She vaguely realised that there was no orifice on her body not being invaded, but once again she couldn’t do anything but rejoice in it. The cock in her mouth thrust a few times before drawing back, and another one, wider, was offered to her. She licked around it, mewling in need, impaled on the shafts that were invading her lower body.

Seconds and minutes blended together; Bethany lost all sense of time, space, reality around her.  Nothing grounded her, other than the four cocks inside her. Her whole existence had focused on the desperate, needy plunge of hard flesh inside her. Fenris and Sebastian’s rhythm abruptly changed, now thrusting in tandem, two hard, rigid lengths plunging inside her at the same time, jerking her forward to take the cocks that were alternatively thrusting in her panting mouth even deeper. Pleasure built, amassing into a huge wave that crested over her, ready to consume her.  The pain of the hard, brutal thrusts inside her clenching body pushed the bliss and joy that was making her body sing even higher, feeding it, making it almost torturous in its intensity. Suspended on the verge, caught on the brink of a gigantic orgasm, she writhed against the cocks filling her, desperately pushing backwards in an attempt to take them deeper, faster, harder.

When the wave finally crushed over her, she screamed around the cock filling her mouth, then sucked in a few deep breaths around it, which only had the effect of it spurting in her mouth, filling her with hot, salty jets of musky male cream. She heard a desperate moan and opened her eyes to see Anders-for it was his voice shouting out her name- as he came, his long cock jerking in her mouth. But her eyes didn’t work any further than that; all she could see was blackness swirling and stars bursting into brilliant arcs of colour. She swallowed instinctively, and the hot pulses of seed going down her throat caused her to crest once again, tightening painfully around the cocks filling her. Sebastian cried out, followed right afterwards by Fenris; the ex-prince’s length swelled even more inside her tender nether passage, then filled her with hot, scalding spurts  of his seed. Underneath her, Fenris gritted his teeth to hold on-her sheath had tensed like a clenched fist, and he felt the other male’s  cock twitch against this own, only a thin piece of skin separating them. His head thrashed against the ground as he struggled to hold on, but he lost the fight as he looked up to see Bethany, her lovely face clenched in a grimace of pain and pleasure, slack with her orgasm, seed running out of the corned of her mouth.

With a roar and a blinding flash of his markings, he also came hard, his slim hips arching upwards to deliver his load straight into the opening of her womb, which was cupping lovingly over the head of his shaft; long, almost unending spurts of seed, coating her insides. She moaned, as another wave of bliss shuttered her body, and with a groan she took Varric’s offered cock as deep in her mouth as she could suckling desperately at his thick length, moaning around it.  Sebastian cursed behind her, as he withdrew, then curled up as a baby, his hands cupping his aching groin. Anders was in no better state.

When Varric finally also came, filling Bethany’s mouth, he summed up the situation just right, as he panted on the ground, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Shit,” he said, crawling close to Bethany that had collapsed on top of Fenris, checking her pulse and her breath. “Can somebody die from coming too much?”

 Fenris and Anders exchanged a look then Fenris’ arms wrapped around Bethany in a protective embrace.

“We’ll kill her if this goes on too much longer,” Anders mumbled, sending small tendrils of magic to heal all the people in the room; for once, Fenris didn't even protest the use of magic. The ache in his groin remained, despite the healing though, which could be expected.

“I don’t think I have any more to come, anyway,” Sebastian mumbled, trying to catch his breath. Already the dark magic around them was refocusing, ready to attack again.

Bethany moaned, even unconscious, as if she was agreeing.

“It was said that when the victims of the room resisted for too long, they started coming air, and sometimes even blood,” Fenris murmured, his breath already beginning to pant, while one hand –in complete contrast to the lust burning in his green eyes- was tenderly caressing Bethany’s bare thigh.  “Female apprentices were sometimes found dead, bleeding internally...”

“Alright, that is enough,” Sebastian’s voice rang with authority. “There is no point in all this gloom and doom. Blythe will find a way to get us out. Until then...try to resist coming...and...we should give her a break. Anders,” he turned to the healer, “you have done this before. If it comes to that, you must take her place.”

Anders blanched then swallowed hard. “Why me?” he protested. “So has he,” he pointed to Fenris, “judging from the perverted asswipe he had for a master.”

“And so has Choir Boy,” Varric piped in. “It seems that mine is the only back door never to have been breached and I’m warning you all, the hinges are stuck, the key is gone and nobody, I repeat, _nobody_ , is going through _that_ today.”

The rest of the four men all looked at each other, a secret tentative communication passing among them, before one by one they lowered their heads to look at the woman writhing and softly moaning on the floor, caught once again in the clutches of the spell that was gaining force minute by minute. They could all feel it in their guts, like an invisible hand twisting their insides up in knots, like a wave of liquid fire that had been injected in their bloodstream and was now streaming straight south. The need was gnawing once again, making Bethany squirm and rub her thighs together in her sleep, trying to alleviate the tight feeling of want that was spreading through all of them.

"She's exhausted," Fenris whispered, and despite the irresistible surge of desire that was already tightening his body again, his voice was tender, his eyes soft on her.

"Yeah, poor lamb," Anders agreed, running his hand down her arm in a gentle, reverent caress. "Her first time, on a hard floor in a dungeon, with four men ravaging her like beasts."

Sebastian’s blue eyes were also soft as he gazed on the sleeping woman, writhing on the floor as the spell once more tightened its grip on her- and on them all.

“We could at least have tried to make her more comfortable,” he murmured. “Maker’s blood, look at her knees, she’s bleeding!”

Anders ran a careful hand down her body, half caress, half healing magic. His mouth had gone dry and he had to swallow down convulsingly to clear his throat; there was lust blocking it, that dark, surging wave of desire that he felt hopeless to resist. But at the same, there was an almost reverent sense of awe, respect and appreciation choking him up for the woman that had given them all so much. He didn’t know what to do; he wanted to ravage her as she slept, some carnal, uncivilised side of him wanted to roar to life, obeying the demands of the spell. But another one wanted to just hold this incredibly giving woman, cradle her exhausted body, cherish and worship her.

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. One look to the faces of his companions had told him they all felt exactly the same.

“Let’s make her comfortable,” Fenris suggested, then got up on wobbly legs to look around the room. “I think there were some old blankets in that chest, Varric?”

The dwarf nodded, once, his face lighting up with understanding, before making his way to the other side of the room.

Before long, all four men were back, each holding something and exchanging self-conscious slightly timid looks.

“Blankets,” Varric held up the pile of moth eaten fabric in his arms.

“Water,” Fenris was holding a discarded, rusty helmet, full to the brim with cool water from the small spring. “I thought we could...”

Anders raised an eyebrow and held up a small vial. “I had some oil in my pack, for burns.”

Sebastian held up a comb, his face going a little scarlet.

“Hah!” Varric shouted. “I knew it! No way your hair stayed like that all day on its own, Choir Boy!”

A small shared bubble of laughter went around among the men, an amused chuckle between friends sharing a joke, and suddenly, the spell didn’t seem that potent, the urgency to mate that had been clenching their groins suddenly was not as unbeatable.

Unwittingly, though they had no idea yet, they had found the weak spot in the magic of the room:

Caring.

* * *

Bethany woke up with her skin clammy and her heart racing again, her every nerve ending set ablaze as the now familiar fire of the spell raged inside her. She mentally groaned and prepared herself; if it was that bad for her, then the men would be rearing to go, and she didn't think she could take any more. She hurt, deep inside, and her skin was sore and over-sensitive. There was moisture between her legs and all over her skin, and she realised with a deeply feminine sense of dread that she was filthy. She stank and she was covered in sticky fluids and sheen after sheen of grime and her own sweat.

A hand clutched into her forearm and she was just about ready to protest, despite the fire of lust burning her up, when she was tenderly cradled against a hard chest and something blessedly cool landed on her face.

She opened fogged, confused eyes to see Fenris, a look of concentration in his green eyes, running a wet cloth tenderly along her face.

“What...”

“Shhh...” Ander’s voice crooned to her from her right, another rag joining the one in Fenris’ hands, running carefully down her torso. “It’s alright, sweetness,” he murmured. “Relax.”

She obeyed the voice, sighing with pleasure as the two mean washed layer after layer of grime from her skin, carefully, tenderly bathing her. Sebastian was a wall of warmth and comfort at her back, running his talented fingers and then a comb through the tangled mess of her hair. She groaned at how good it felt. Varric was kneeling at her feet, massaging into the sole, his strong dwarven fingers smoothing away knots and tension as they climbed up her calves and then her thighs. She blushed when Anders and Fenris cleaned her between her legs, and then Anders was casting his healing magic before spilling some of the oil in a small vial in Varric’s, Fenris’ and his own palm.

Bethany moaned, she couldn’t help it. It felt so good. Three pairs of strong, callused fingers massaging her aching muscles, rubbing the soothing oil in her overheated skin. Sebastian’s long fingers, massaging her scalp, caressing her hair, circling at her temples. It was bliss, pure, decadent bliss.

“Oh, Maker,” she sighed. “This feels so good.”

A chuckle answered her, a deep-throated, totally male little laugh next to her ear, making her skin rise in goosebumps. Sebastian’s lips tenderly kissed the swell of her ear, then one hand came around to trail lightly up and down her neck. She shivered, realising the other three men had grown still, just watching with hungry eyes.

“I don’t think I can,” Bethany sighed, while her body shivered with pleasure and lust. “I want to...but I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“It’s alright, sweetling,” Sebastian crooned. “You don’t have to.”

“But...”

“Shhh,” Sebastian’s voice was mesmerising next to her ear. “Watch.”

A strong toned hand reached out and grabbed Anders by the back of his neck, dragging him closer. Bethany’s eyes bulged out and a gasp escaped her lips as she saw the ex-prince and the healer exchange a hot, open-mouth kiss, moaning into each other’s mouth. Her breath started panting; there was something incredibly erotic in watching two strong, intensely masculine men exchange a kiss like that. It wasn’t hardness against softness, the instinctual give and take between a male and female; this was all hardness, rigid lines meshing and masculine groans filling harsh, conquering mouths. She bit her lip, feeling herself grow moist at the sight, her eyes growing heavy lidded.

When Sebastian let go of Anders and pulled Fenris to him, she was surprised to see the elf come willingly, because she knew that for Fenris surrendering control like this was a taboo. That he was doing it for her, to spare her, made her want to weep. But then she noticed how the elven warrior turned the tables on Sebastian, clutching a fistful of his hair and rising up to brutally dominate the kiss until the ex-prince was trembling and moaning. She clenched her thighs together, the ache between her legs suddenly unbearable.

She turned to Varric, challenging him with her eyes, and he just sighed and stepped closer, leaning in to kiss the edge of her nose before offering her a sweet smile.

“Okay, princess,” he sighed. “For you.”

And then it was all a blur, a struggle to keep track of who kissed whom, of hard muscle and feverish masculine flesh coming together. Bethany felt like she was in a storm, as if lighting had suddenly crashed down on her. Hands were running down her body, caressing her tenderly, but those hands then roamed, exchanging feminine flesh for the hard planes and bulging muscles of another man. She lost track; she couldn’t follow everything. She was aware that Sebastian was behind her, her sitting on his lap, his cock cradled between the globes of her ass, raining kisses along her neck and shoulders, only stopping to exchange groaning, brutal kisses with his companions. She knew that Anders was to her right, his head over her chest, his mouth latched on to her nipple, laving, lapping, suckling. Fenris was giving a similar treatment to her other breast, and she made the mistake of looking down on their lightly-coloured heads, only to see them lift up at the same time, releasing her nipples with a pop, to tentatively come together and exchange a kiss that was at first hesitant and stilted. Bethany drew in a deep breath with a gasp of surprise and then Anders licked along Fenris’ plump bottom lip, and the kiss grew deeper, almost hungry, with a shared moan.

“Now, that’s something I never expected to see,” Varric mumbled, and Bethany laughed before pulling him on top of her, to share a kiss, effectively making the two men pull away; but they were frowning at the interruption and it stroke Bethany as so strange, so out of this world, that another girlish giggle bubbled up.

She kissed Varric, still laughing, watching out of the corner of her eyes that Fenris and Anders were running their hands all over his back, then coming around to pet his chest hair with a look on both their faces that bespoke of having fantasised about that at some point. She laughed again, a small giggle snorted in Varric’s mouth, and he pulled back to wink at her, although his body was trembling and his pupils had blown to nearly all black.

“What can I say?” he smirked. “The chest hair is _potent_.”

Fenris also let out a small, dark chuckle at his side. “It’s softer than I’d thought.”

Anders and Sebastian laughed, and before they all knew it, positions got magically reversed. Varric was lying down on the floor, Bethany perched on his lap, straddling his thighs and rubbing her hot aching centre on his wonderfully thick cock, while all three men, Sebastian, Fenris and Anders, knotted their fingers in his chest hair, crooning at how soft it was.

“Hey!” Varric mock-protested, while his hips started jack-hammering upwards, providing Bethany with the friction she needed. “Watch it! You’ll moult it!”

Laughter echoed all around, to be replaced with moans and gasps as Sebastian pulled first Fenris and then Anders into another scorching, wet kiss, then leaned in to tenderly run his fingers over Bethany’s mouth and lips.

“Which one do you want to see me with?” he asked, his cerulean eyes dark with want, and she licked her lips and sighed before looking at the blond healer. “I want to see Fenris with Anders,” she moaned. “And then you, with both of them.”

She sent a molten, ravenous look to the dwarf underneath her. “Varric is mine,” she licked her lips, then angled her hips just so, taking his thick, bulging cock deep inside her, a moan of bliss and pain escaping her at the overwhelming fullness, the burning stretch of her inner muscles around his flesh.

Varric moaned underneath her, his hands coming to cup her breasts, a smile gracing his lips despite the almost agonising pleasure. “You know I love you, don’t you Sunshine?”

She smiled, then laid down on his chest, her face cushioned in his soft chest hair, her heart filling huge with something indescribably precious. “I love you too, Varric. _Hold_ _me_.”

And so he did, holding her tenderly against his chest, while they both denied the lust the magic in the room was whipping them with. Varric fought against the spell to give her slow, languid thrusts, almost not moving, just pulsing inside with his heartbeat. She had all her attention riveted to the side, to the three handsome men that were fondling and kissing to her left, biting her lip, trembling with desire at the sight of Ander’s pale flesh meshing with Fenris’ tan skin as Sebastian gave them instructions, holding her gaze, leaning in to kiss one or the other from time to time. Bethany’s whole being focused on the scene, Sebastian’s soft, accented voice dark with passion, urging the two men on, crooning obscenities in their ears.

She shivered every time Sebastian spoke, and Varric’s cock rocked inside her. “Come, Anders, touch him,” Sebastian was caressing the healer’s back pushing him forward. “Fenris, my friend, kiss him. Yes. That’s good. _So good_.” A sigh of want and a moan of desire. “Like that. More.”

The two men seemed both unwilling and unable to resist the siren’s call of Sebastian’s voice, obeying his instructions without a second thought, only groaning and moaning and trembling like stallions that had been ridden hard and put away wet. Another command, and Anders was suckling on Fenris’ delicate ear, making the Tevinter elf moan brokenly. Another whispered command, for Fenris to cup Anders and the healer was jerking as if electricity was going through him. Bethany’s eyes fogged over; it was a sight she’d never have dreamt before, seeing Fenris and Anders together like that. She realised with a jolt that the two men had only overcome their distaste for one another to spare her; not that she wanted to be spared right now.

Sebastian briefly left the side of the two men, returning to Bethany’s side to retrieve the vial of oil that Anders had dropped, then winked at her and leaned in to give her one of those drugging, mind-fogging kisses she had come to crave, before returning to Anders and Fenris, who were embraced kneeling on the floor, rubbing against each other’s erections while exchanging a kiss that Bethany was certain would soon light the room on fire. She still couldn’t believe the sight her eyes were seeing; Fenris and Anders, the eternal rivals, kissing as if there wasn't enough air in the room, as if their last breath could only be drawn from each other’s lungs.

Opposites did attract, it seemed, and she had to wonder if maybe some of their animosity so far hadn't actually been desire veiled in contempt. Varric pulled her in for a languid, soft kiss, and she went willingly, because damn him, Varric didn't have a silver tongue for telling stories alone. His mouth was sin personified, and his taste was to die for, but unlike the other three men, he never demanded, he never took- he cajoled. He ran his tongue over her lip like a cat licking cream and she just opened to him like a blooming flower; it was that simple, and that easy. Kissing Varric was suddenly the most important thing she had to do with the rest of her life, and she let herself go, enjoying him with gusto and almost childish excitement, the smile curving her lips a perfect counterpart to his.

She had been right, earlier with Fenris. Kisses mixed in with smiles were indeed sweeter.

 A throaty, velvety moan at her right captured her attention again and she abandoned Varric’s syrupy kisses to look. The mixed effect of the dwarf’s thick erection dreamily giving her shallow, unhurried thrusts and the sight on her side made her bite her lip not to moan brokenly. When biting her lip almost through didn’t work, she bit into the solid, hard flesh of the dwarf underneath her and Varric’s response was to arch up from the floor, burying himself inside her velvety heat until she felt there was no room left inside her to even breathe. Or maybe it was the sight of Sebastian, thrusting his oiled-slicked fingers up the asses of the two men that were still kissing as if their lives depended on it, still on their knees, that totally robbed her of her next breath.

She watched, captivated by the sight even as her cheeks blushed. She already knew from her own experience, how talented those long, calloused fingers were. Fenris moaned into the kiss, then broke it to throw his head back, a curse escaping him as Sebastian’s fingers found a particularly responsive spot inside him, and Anders took the chance to run his mouth down the elf’s throat, following the lyrium lines until he reached a pebbled male nipple and took the small nub in his mouth, sucking boldly.

“Just like that,” Sebastian cajoled, sighing in pleasure, his voice velvety soft on all its hoarseness. “Now, lower.”

Anders gave him a small look, as if to tell him he knew what he was doing, then pushed back on Fenris’ torso, until Sebastian had to draw his fingers back to allow the mage to push him on his back. Sebastian leaned in lower, cradling Fenris’ face in his large palm, gently nipping along his jaw, his pointed ear, crooning praise that made the elf tremble and sigh, as he watched the mage slip lower with eyes that resembled dark stormy seas in their intensity.

The blond healer slipped even lower, and Bethany groaned to see his mouth close around the elf’s straining erection. There was something incredibly erotic watching three men caress and fondle each other like that, in watching men pleasure each other. There was no softness against hardness there, no strength pitted against gentleness- and it fascinated her. She suddenly realised why men loved watching women together- it was sinful and decadent and so arousing, that her body suddenly felt electrified, quicksilver sensations running through her.  She arched her body backwards. The languid, unhurried thrusts that Varric was giving her were suddenly not nearly enough, as want tightened like a fist around her insides, making sparks almost fly behind her lowered eyelids.

“Come, now, Anders,” Sebastian was half reclined next to Fenris, one hand holding his face tilted at just the right angle to be able to drink his moans down with his soft, drugging kisses. “You can do better than that.”

An upward look by the blond healer and then a cheeky smile; one long swipe of his tongue over the velvety crest of Fenris’ erection before his mouth swallowed the elf’s erection down to the root.

“ _Venhedis_ ,” Fenris hissed.

“He likes it,” Sebastian remarked with a chuckle, then shot a  glance to Bethany, that was now gyrating her hips over Varric’s shaft, alternating between biting her lip and nipping the dwarf’s shoulder as she watched, riveted. “She likes it too. Give them more, Anders. Down to the root. I know you can take him.” The ex-prince remarked, then took the tip of Fenris’ ear between his teeth, nibbling lightly on the sensitive flesh. The elf moaned again, then his eyes locked with Bethany’s and that was all that she could see: those intense green eyes, fogged with pleasure as Anders’ head bobbed his head up and down, sucking with bold, confident movements, and Sebastian worried the ultra-sensitive tip of his ear between his teeth. Varric’s thrusts built in strength and rhythm, Anders sucked even more strongly, moaning at elf’s taste, and Bethany kept staring into Fenris’ eyes and he into her own, both of them surrendered, both of them with lust-fogged eyes and panting breaths.

Just then, just when Bethany thought that she wouldn’t be able to take the agony of pleasure and desire that their eyes seemed to be sharing between them, the elf’s eyes drifted shut on a gasp of surprise, and Sebastian chuckled in his ear.

“Yes. Oh, Anders. Yes. Right there, man.”

Bethany stopped to see what Anders was doing and she gasped; of all the erotic sights so far, this had to be the best one. One hand wrapped around Fenris’ erection, slowly pumping up and down, Anders’ face was buried between the elf’s toned thighs, that he had pushed upwards and he was busy licking the elven warrior at the entrance Sebastian had already stretched with his fingers. Bethany moaned; an orgasm ripped through her, making her body clench, and she keened Varric’s name, then slumped on his chest, still watching, riding the soft aftershocks as the thick dwarven rod so firmly lodged inside her continued fucking her with destructive yet tender thrusts.

She closed her eyes, just for a moment, just to catch her breath, and when she opened them again, it was to the whispered sound of her name in Fenris’ honeyed voice. Kn the brief time she had closed her eyes, apparently Fenris had once again turned the tables, and had turned the blond healer around, pushed him down on the floor and spread his legs open, before slamming inside him. The elf had stretched out a hand towards her, and she grasped on to it, even as he started shafting Anders. Varric lost his patience as well and started hammering inside her, groaning underneath her, murmuring a strange mix of curse words and endearments.

They both sighed, Bethany and Fenris, in shared pleasure. They both gasped together, Bethany and Anders, in shared pain, then held on as pleasure build and pain nipped at its heels. Ander groaned at how good the elf felt, and Sebastian answered that he could imagine, that he couldn’t wait to see for himself, before rising on his knees to slip his hand behind Fenris and thrust three fingers inside his ass, making the warrior hiss his name. Bethany’s eyes drifted shut once more, the pleasure getting too much for her, her brain short-circuiting. When she opened them again, the scene had shifted once again, and she came once more, exhausted flutters making her belly cramp at the hot as sin sight of Sebastian as he positioned himself behind Fenris, and drove his cock balls deep in one brutal punishing thrust.

The white-haired warrior groaned, and Sebastian growled, a primal primitive sound that managed to send Bethany’s arousal higher than she could have imagined. She watched as the ex-prince set the pace, effectively fucking both men in front of him, because every time he thrust inside Fenris, forcing his tight ass to accept his harsh invasion, he pushed the mage forwards into Anders, who mewled and reached out to clasp Bethany’s hand just like Fenris had done a few minutes ago.

Varric withdrew from her, leaving her feeling forlorn and desperately empty, watching now with fascinated eyes as well. His eyes moved from the hand that Anders had reached out to Bethany, then to Fenris, being sandwiched between the other two men, to the feral, snarling image of the previously controlled, collected Chantry priest.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shocked and excited despite his will, then he looked at Bethany, that was staring them with something akin to shocked awe. “Go to them,” he gestured with his head. “I know you want to. I’m good.”

She dragged her eyes away to look at him, then smiled and kissed the corner of his lips.  She clambered off his lap, her legs trembling, her hand still in Anders’ and moved to straddle the mage in front of Fernis, moving backwards and wiggling until Anders’ thick, weeping cock was positioned right where she wanted it.

The healer cried out her name as she pushed back, taking him as deep as she could. Sebastian hummed, obviously pleased with her initiative, then redoubled his speed, And Fenris just wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, his groans and moans muffled against her neck.

“Let me remind you boys and girl,” Varric panted, “that we’re trying to preserve out strength and not come. Unless you guys want to start coming up blood.”

His words were like a bucketful of iced water, and after they all paused for an instance, taking stock of their own bodies and the hold the spell had on them, Sebastian moved again, but this time his thrusts were careful, almost tender, but not less potent. His hand that had fisted in Fenris’ white hair gentled and he concentrated on carefully drawing back, then plunging in inch by torturous inch, letting the other man take him in, in a measured, controlled pace that was even more devastating in its tenderness. Fenris started trembling, pleasure building, his senses attacked on all sides: a thick cock up his ass, tenderly, carefully fucking him, the tip breaching the tight ring of muscles to slip inside like a hot, solid rod of ecstasy and agony. His own cock, plunging just as slowly in the tight, furnace-hot confides of the mage’s snug ass. Bethany’s body, glued to his front, as she gyrated over the healer. 

He noticed that the blond healer had gripped both Bethany’s hands, helping her steady herself, he saw the burning amber of his eyes shining at her between his slitted eyelids. Varric was palming himself, moaning at the sight of all them rocking together like in a well-orchestrated, choreographed dance. Sebastian’s breath was sawing against his ear and Bethany was moaning as his own mouth licked along her neck and suddenly he felt this overwhelming surge of affection rush through him. He kissed Bethany’s nape, then leaned backwards to kiss Sebastian, then smiled a small, tremulous grin to Anders.

“Bethany,” he gasped, just as his orgasm threatened, tightening his spine, making his balls draw tight against his body. 

She moaned his name. “Fenris,” she cried out, just as her body tightened too. “Sebastian. Anders....oh, Varric!” her orgasm make her scream her next words. “I love you all.”

And just like that, as if it was expecting just those words, the spell dissipated, the air suddenly free of malignant magic and filling only with the pleasured moans of four men and one woman all coming together for the last time.

The door slid open.


	6. Consequences

It was Fenris that carried her out of that room, through the tunnels and into the air and sun. Staggering behind him, Anders and Sebastian helped each other walk, while Varric slowly clambered behind them.

It was also Fenris that Blythe came face to face with, carrying Bethany. Paling at the image of his sister, unconscious, covered in finger-marks and bruises, sticky with unmentionable fluids, the usually flippant mage had grown unusually, menacingly still, his eyes zeroed on those of the man that had once been his lover.

Then he snarled, and attacked, not listening to reason, not stopping until all four men were lying bloodied and beaten on the ground. Bethany was out like a light, but even if she’d been awake it was doubtful she’d been able to stop him. Blythe’s temper was like a volcano; despite the bluster and aggressiveness, it didn’t erupt very often, but when it did, the results were catastrophic.  In his ire, Blythe hadn’t even used magic; he beat the other four men –who were too exhausted and too guilt-ridden to defend themselves- within an inch of their lives. By the end, his knuckles were a bloody mess, and he was sobbing in rage as he kicked and punched and pummelled, not caring if he killed any of them.

He only stopped when his sister moaned though unconscious, rushing to her side. With tears in his eyes he picked her up tenderly, wincing at the smell of sex and sweat clinging to her skin, then covered her with his cloak and carried her back to Kirkwall, tears in his eyes. Although she had no recollection of it later, he bathed herself, cursing a blue streak to see the evidence of what had been done to her, and roused her from her deep exhausted sleep only to urge her to take a contraceptive potion.

She came to a whole day later…and her brother was still in a murderous mood. Sighing, blushing, she told him everything, not even hiding the fact that she’d had sex with Fenris. Blythe had just stood there, hands clenched into fists, listening intently, then kissed her cheek before storming off, and she prayed it wasn’t to kill them all.

* * *

 

 “Will you please settle down,” Bethany rubbed a headache that was forming in her temple as Blythe paced up and down, making her dizzy.

“I’ll...”,

“Yes, yes,” she made a condescending movement. “You’ll kill them all. Yes, you’ve said it already. _Yes, Blythe_. You’ll boil their entrails and fashion vests out of their hide. Yes, Blythe, I know.”

Blythe stopped his furious pacing, his lilac eyes shooting lightning.

“Don’t patronise me, Bethany!” he scolded his younger sister. “They fucking gang raped you!”

“Will you just listen?” she hissed, beyond aggravated. “I was _not_ raped. _I_ gave them permission! I _begged_ for it!”

 Blythe shuddered then shook his head as if to make the words go away. “You weren’t in your proper mind,” he patiently explained as if talking to a slow-witted child. “It was like you were drunk and they took advantage of you.” He clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth.  “I’ll kill them all. I’ll fucking fuck them first then fucking cut their fucking balls off with a fucking blunt knife and feed it to the dogs!”

Blythe’s mabari whined from the corner, then made some gagging sounds.

“Look what you did,” Bethany half smiled. “Poor Pooch is sick to his stomach.”

Blythe spared a look to his dog. “Okay, then not to the dogs,” he said, relaxing marginally with a weary sigh. “That’s just cruel. For the dogs.”

Bethany got up and approached her brother, running a soothing hand through his hair. “Blythe,” she crooned to him, making his tensed shoulders instantly ease. “Please, brother. Let it drop. They didn’t hurt me.” She blushed a deep crimson and averted her eyes. “I...to tell you the truth...”

Blythe’s eyes narrowed again. “Tell me.”

“I... liked it.”

“No, that’s not true.”

A red hot wave of anger came up to choke Bethany at Blythe’s blind refusal to believe his sister could have felt anything lustful, that she wasn’t the chaste treasure he wanted to believe she was.

“I am a _woman_ , Blythe,” she said tersely, “in case it has escaped your notice. A normal young woman, with wants and needs, and _I. liked. it_.”

“No!” Blythe closed his eyes, then sighed and relaxed again. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, then he sat heavily down on a nearby bench and hung his head low down between his hands.

“I know,” he finally said. “Fuck me, I know. I have been an ass, keeping you...” he made a vague gesture avoiding his sister’s eyes. “It’s just that there has been so much loss and tragedy and crap in our lives.” He smiled wryly. “I wanted to keep you pure and innocent, deliver you to your husband’s arms without all this...shit around us touching you.”

Bethany sat next to him, and lay her head on his shoulder, tears filling her eyes. “You can’t keep me from life,” she said softly, running her hand through her brother’s silky hair.

“I can try,” Blythe stubbornly said, then offered her one of his cynical smiles. “I’ll settle for keeping you away from more orgies.”

She slapped his arm, growing red in the face, then with a little choked peal or mortified laughter, she hid her face deeper in the crook of his shoulder.

“Dear Maker,” she sighed. “How am I going to face any of them?”

Blythe raised an eyebrow. “A little too late to be embarrassed, sister dear,” he said with his usual sarcasm. “It’s them that should be embarrassed, after all. I still can’t believe it...Anders...okay I can understand Anders. But Varric? I mean, Varric? Really? And Sebastian? Okay I know you had the hots for Sebastian, but he’s a priest damn it! And Fenris...” He gave his sister a hurt glance. “Did you _really_ have to do Fenris?”

“We were all in pain, Blythe,” she repeated for the hundredth time. “The spell...”

“Yeah...” Blythe cut her off with a gesture and then gave her his best impression of huge, hurt puppy dog eyes. “But...Why Fenris?”

“I’m so sorry, brother,” Bethany’s face fell. “I know how you feel about him.”

“One night,” he said. “And he left me. And then he goes and does my sister.”

Bethany punched his shoulder. “For all it’s worth….” she giggled a little, “I can understand now…why you can’t let go of him.”

Blythe gave her a confused look and a wicked smile slowly curled Bethany’s lips, making Blythe gasp. “Oh, you little…”

She laughed, she couldn’t help it, at the look of indignant shock and pure jealousy on her brother’s face. “Serves you right, you ass,” she said between peals of laughter. “If you’d let me at least look at another man, this might not have happened.”

Hawke gave her a sheepish look. “I just want to keep you safe, Bethy,” he ran a hand through her hair. “After losing Carver, and then Mother…”

“I know,” she rested her head against his shoulder again. “I know. And you have, brother, you have. Just…let me live a little too, alright?”

She took Blythe’s silence as agreement, because Maker bless him, her brother could convince an archdemon to drop the horde and go for tea and scones instead. It was only when he realised he had been wrong that Blythe usually fell silent, and that was not too often. He would soon fly off to talk about something else, fully aware that everybody knew that once he had fallen silent, he had admitted defeat.

“So,” true to her prediction, Blythe changed the subject, “who is the lucky guy? You can’t have Sebastian, of course, unless he decides to drop the Chantry, and Fenris...might be awkward. Who will it be? Varric or Anders?”

She raised her head to pout. Blythe’s eyes narrowed.

“No. Not Fenris. And yes,” he replied to the deepening pout of his sister’s face with a small sarcastic smile, “you have to choose _just_ one.”

“I doubt any of them would be interested, anyway,” she looked away, her eyes hurt for a moment. “It’s not that they have been banging down the doors to see me.”

“Sebastian has.” Blythe bit the inside of his lip not to smile. “And so has Varric. And Anders is camped out in our wine cellar, I think. As for Fenris…he came to see _me_. To apologise. About treating my sister “in a totally undeserved way”. I kicked him out.”

Bethany jolted. “You did? Why?”

Blythe just shrugged. “He never came to apologise about the way he treated me, that’s why. Like my feelings don’t count. And maybe, for Fenris….they don’t. It’s about time for me to accept it.”

Bethany sighed and lay her head on his shoulder again. “He loves you.”

Blythe didn’t answer, but this time Bethany had the impression his silence wasn’t an agreement. “He does,” she insisted and still no answer came. She realised his shoulder had grown tense under her cheek and raised her eyes to look at her brother. “Oh, Blythe…” she raised a hand too caress her brother’s hair, shocked at the tears shimmering in his lilac eyes, the trembling of his lips, the misery written on his face. “He loves you, brother, I know he does.”

“Having his cock up your ass doesn’t make you an expert on his feelings. Believe me, I know.”

She gasped, blushed, then betted his chest. “Blythe!”

Her brother chuckled, the brief moment of vulnerability shoved aside under his usual sarcastic humour. Then a lewd smile split Bethany’s lips making him feel apprehensive all of a sudden.

“So,” the smile widened. “I always thought you were a top. Details?”

Hawke choked and spluttered.

* * *

A couple of days later Bethany was still hiding away in their mansion. She excused herself form going on missions by claiming she wasn’t feeling very well, but both her and her brother –and everybody else in their group, by then –knew that wasn’t the case.  Isabela had come to see her, bugging her for details, Merrill in tow looking embarrassed and awkward, but Bethany had just blushed and told the pirate to mind her own business, in a tone that shocked the rogue a little.

“Well,” she had drawled, surprised at the unashamed, proud tilt of her chin, that spoke of the fact that the young mage was determined not to be cowed, “what do you know. One good shag and Bethany grows a spine.”

Bethany blushed a bit more, but then smiled tartly. “It was more than one good shag.”

Isabela had startled, but then smiled. “More as in more than one, or more than good?”

“Both,” Bethany had cryptically answered, with a small smile of her own, one that only a woman that had been naughty could exchange with another one that could understand her.

Merrill had just blushed and commented that she didn’t understand and both women had burst laughing.

As for Aveline, she had barged in, coldly furious, and asked Bethany if she wanted to press charges at which Bethany had replied that no, thank you very much, she didn’t see any reason to. The guard captain had pressed her issue, seeing as was her custom only one side of the whole situation and Bethany had felt anger rise inside her, until she had made her point very clearly.

“It was not rape, Aveline. I had other options. I could have fought them. I could have cast blood magic. I begged for it, and they gave it to me. Very well, if I might add so myself.”

Aveline’s blush as she’d stormed off as abruptly as she’d arrived was even redder than her hair.

But, all things considered, she’d had no contact with any of the men.  Blythe had intercepted all their attempts to meet her, offering her the very logical excuse that she needed time to think first.

This day, she had woken up intending to do just that. To think. To finally stop avoiding the issue and take a good, long look at her heart and her emotions and find out what she wanted to do about the whole situation. She knew fully well that she would have to meet the men at some point and talk with them, to perhaps explore the possibility of a relationship with one of them.

If any of them was willing, of course.

But that wasn’t the thought that frustrated her the most: that she might find out that her biggest fear was true, that none of them had really wanted her. That it had been the magic in the chamber that had only made them-all and every single one of them- want her. The pain twisting her insides at that thought was too intense to handle right now, she pushed that thought aside, and concentrated on her biggest problem.

Who to choose.

In a perfect world, in ideal circumstances, they would all want her, and she would have the pick of them. All of them except Fenris, of course, because even of the elven warrior appeared this very moment to declare his undying love to her, she was determined to reject him, to spare her brother the pain. She couldn’t do that to Blythe, casually carry on with the man he loved, right in his face.

So that only left Sebastian, Anders and Varric.

Sebastian had been her first crush, the man that had tormented her dreams ever since the first day she’d met him. That small taste of him that she’d gotten, the kinky, passionate man behind the calm, pious exterior- she just couldn’t stop thinking about him. Anders’ tenderness and passion had always spoken to her heart; a warrior, a rebel, a revolutionary. And yet, a healer that could cradle a sick child in his arms with amazing tenderness; both his sides called to her with irresistible force. And Varric…Varric, who had always been sweet and tender, who had always cherished her, who had always protected and comforted her. A cuddly bear that had proven to be able to turn to a sexy predator at a drop of a hat.

Maker, how could she choose?

The point was, however, moot. Even if she chose, a small bitter voice whined in her brain, it didn’t mean any of them would be interested. Maybe she didn’t have that special something that made men desire women as anything else that a friend. Not without a lust spell affecting them, at least.

Suddenly feeling sorry for herself, she slumped down on the sofa, sighing wearily.

“Now, what could possibly have gotten such a charming young woman in such a funk?” a voice behind her shoulder made her jump. She turned her head, her hands flying to the hilt of the dagger hidden in the folds of her robe.

“Varric,” she instantly relaxed, then looked away, blushing furiously. She lost her breath at the image that flew through her head, of him naked beneath her, thrusting inside her, her hands fisted in his chest hair. “What brings you here?”

“Short answer? You, Sunshine.”

She raised an eyebrow as the dwarf moved to sit across from her, dragging a chair near.  “Me?” She breathlessly asked. “What about me?”

“Let’s dispense with the bullshit, shall we, Sunshine?” Varric sighed, then ran a hand through his chest hair, noticing with a small smile that her eyes trailed that hand hungrily.

“Okay,” she breathlessly said. “Lets.”

“Are you angry?” his question shocked her a little, and she raised startled eyes to his face.

“Angry? No, why?”

Varric huffed, then shook his head. “Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think the correct etiquette after screwing someone till his balls run dry is avoiding him.”

Bethany bit her lip, going red to the tip of her ears. “Maker…” she groaned. “I needed time to think, Varric.”

Varric leaned in, and for the first time Bethany realised that anger was simmering in the dwarf’s eyes. “What about?”

She threw her arms in the air, frustrated, then got up to pace. “What do you think,” she spat. “About everything that happened. What to do next. How to actually talk to any of you without self-combusting with shame.”

“Shame?” Varric leaned back, then crossed his legs in what she would have interpreted as a casual pose- if she hadn’t caught that small trace of anger smouldering in his gaze. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Damn it, Bethany, I thought you never wanted to see me again. That you blamed us. Me.”

She rolled her eyes at him and he just sighed wearily then offered her a wicked grin, patting his thigh. “Come sit in Unca Varric’s lap, and tell me all about it.”

She laughed, then the heated gleam in his eyes made her breath hitch. Her eyelids lowered over her brown eyes. “Do I get to touch the chest hair?”

Varric’s grin grew wider, and wicked. “And add some,” he said, before pulling her down on his lap and capturing her lips in a long, drugging kiss.

“Ahem,” a voice sounded from the door and they both raised startled eyes to Sebastian, standing in the doorway.

“It seems we are too late”, he turned to a person behind him and Ander’s blond head peeked over his shoulder, evaluated the scene in front of him then turned to the Prince.

“Told you, you idiot,” he murmured, almost pouting. “We shouldn’t have stopped at the Chantry.”

“ I needed to get my things.”

Bethany’s eyes flew from one face to the other, her heart flattering in her chest. Oh, Maker, how she had missed them all. How she had longed for Sebastian’s cerulean eyes all these days, for Ander’s grin, for Varric’s soft, caramel voice.

“What are you…Why…I mean…”

Anders pushed his way into the room. “You have to choose Bethany,” he said, raising his head proudly up, gritting his teeth not to how any fear. “Who do you want?”

Bethany’s world stilled with a screech. Time stood still. She gasped, her eyes huge, her heart almost fluttering with happiness. They all wanted her. Maker, they all wanted her. It hadn’t been the spell. She wasn’t unlovable.

Tears flooded her eyes at that.

Sebastian was by her side in an instance, kneeling by her, wiping her tears, cupping her face. “Don’t cry, sweetling,” he crooned, then hissed at Anders. “Fool. You could have been more tactful.”

Bethany sniffled, then looked from one to the other. “You mean…you…you want me? Just me? Without the spell?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Bethany, darling,” he explained patiently. “The spell affected a lot of things, but not our honesty, not mine at least. When I told you I had always wanted you, I spoke nothing but the truth.”

“Ditto,” Varric mumbled, and Anders nodded his head up and down. “Always, he just said. “Since the first day.”

More tears escaped her, which Sebastian kissed tenderly away, while Varric was crooning in her ear. Anders approached, hesitantly, then took one of her hands in his. “We have already talked things over with Blythe. He made us promise we would abide by your wishes, and…Bethany, please.” His amber eyes were soft and tender, full of affection and want. “Just…choose one of us. Don’t make us suffer. We have all…we’ve thought you were angry with us, blaming us.”

She wiped her eyes, pulling a little away from all three men, getting up to pace. Her mind started working a mile a minute and she clench her fists against the sudden tremor that shook her. Maker, how to choose? Who to choose?

She looked at all three of them, Varric leaning forward on the chair, Sebastian still on one knee next to him, Anders fidgeting with the need to pace. Their eyes had zeroed on her face, all three men almost holding their breaths.

Maker…Who to choose. How could she choose? She loved all three of them.

She hadn’t realised she’d said that last one phrase out loud, until she saw the three men exchange stunned looks. Oh, Maker what had she done now? They would all think she was a pervert!

Then her breath caught. A slow smile spread on the faces of all three men, a wicked grin, one of secret male communication; they nodded to each other, then looked at her, and the identical look of acceptance and desire on their faces made her heart miss a beat.

“W…what?” she stammered. “What just happened? Why…why are you smiling?”

Sebastian’s grin turned wicked and Anders threw his head back and laughed, while Varric hid his face in his hand, chuckling.

“Have you ever heard of wet dreams come true, Sunshine?” he laughed. “This is one.”

And then they all moved, at the same time, and Bethany found herself pressed between two strong chests, while Varric caught her hand and tried navigating them all towards the sofa.

“What…really?” she squeaked.

“Yes,” Varric winked. “Really. Wishes. Abiding by them. We promised.”

She laughed, before Ander’s kiss stole her breath.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Bethany was fighting not to laugh at Blythe’s cold, furious looks, as Varric casually petted her ass fondly as he was going by, and Anders, who had been nibbling at her neck, raised his head to wink at Sebastian before moving on to talk to Merrill about a spell component. When Sebastian pecked a kiss on her poty mouth as he was going by as well, Blythe nearly self-combusted, muttering under his breath. Isabela muttered even more darkly, shooting Bethany covetous looks.

“I can’t bend my head around it,” she shot to no one in particular, and then cursed luridly. “Prim little miss prissy pants…with a harem.”

Blythe narrowed his eyes at her. “It is called a polyandrous relationship.”

Isabela crossed her arms over her chest. “They have orgies. I rest my case.”

Blythe gritted his teeth, shot a look to Bethany as if to tell her everything was her fault, then motioned to Fenris, who shot a small hesitant smile to Bethany, then moved to catch up with the mage.

Bethany sighed, looking at the stiff, awkward way the two men interacted with each other, mentally comparing it with the relaxed way Fenris had been behaving around her ever since they had spoken and he had made it clear he had no romantic interest in her-which had relieved her to no end.

The elf had alluded to the fact that he would have been more than interested if someone else hadn’t caught his interest, but had not elaborated. Bethany had hoped that meant he was ready to return to her brother’s side, but these two past weeks, she had watched them dance awkwardly around each other, each too guarded and hesitant to make a move.

“Where exactly are we going?” Anders asked, looking around him curiously.

“An old ruin,” Isabela muttered. “I have a solid lead on the relic.”

Blythe shivered. “No more ruins, please,” he sighed. “I’ve lost my taste for them.”

“I wouldn’t mind one,” Sebastian muttered, wrapping an arm around Bethany’s waist. “The last one was…oddly pleasant.”

Blythe flipped him the bird behind his back.

* * *

“These tunnels look familiar,” Bethany muttered, and Anders hummed in agreement.

Isabela waved them off impatiently. “Ruins…caves,” she shrugged. “They all look the same.”

Blythe had stooped to examine a marking. “There are no frigging spiders, so I’m good.”

Isabela seemed anxious and excited at the same time. “Let’s check that last chamber.” She moved to enter the chamber right behind Hawke, but Aveline grabbed her arm, and pulled her aside.

“These snide comments about Bethany and her…relationship status need to stop, slattern,” she hissed. “You are making them all uncomfortable.”

“Let go of me!” Isabela raged, frantically trying to break free, watching as Fenris, Sebastian and Anders all filed into the chamber. Blythe shot them a perplexed look before raising an eyebrow at Varric, who casually stepped into the room as well, shrugging that he didn’t know what had gotten into the pirate. Hawke sighed, then he followed Varric. 

The door slid closed.

All the women outside the room froze in place, except Isabela who stomped her foot and then slapped Aveline’s arm.

“Look what you did!” she screamed. “Do you know how hard it was to scout for another entrance to that damned room of lust? DO YOU?”

A voice sounded from behind the door. Small, frightened, filled with dread.

“Bethany?”

She moved towards the door, realising for the first time why the tunnels had looked so familiar. “Blythe?” she banged on the door. “Don’t panic.”

“Don’t panic?” An almost hysterical laugh sounded. “Bethany, I am an unharrowed mage. And your men are all in here with me.”

Bethany shot a death stare at Isabela. “I know, brother,” she sighed. Then she laughed. “Lucky you!”

“Lucky me? Even my dog is giving me strange looks, Bethany,” Blythe gasped.

A bubble of laughter escaped Bethany. “The way to open the door is affection, Blythe,” she reminded him. “Love. Don’t you have someone you love in there?’

A small silence. “I hate you.”

“Have fun, brother,” Bethany giggled. “Don’t wear my boys out.”

“Screw you, Bethany.”

“Enjoy, brother!”

“Shit….”

 

 

The end.

 


End file.
